


Saving Grace

by Alessandra_DaughterofApollo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 38,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alessandra_DaughterofApollo/pseuds/Alessandra_DaughterofApollo
Summary: Steve Rogers has a little sister, Norma Grace Rogers, who became an Army nurse during the war. Captured in Italy, Grace is taken by HYDRA, unbeknownst to Steve and Bucky. They find her frozen in a forgotten HYDRA outpost 70 years later, her memory gone. Can they save their Grace from the darkness of HYDRA? And maybe, just maybe, she will the one to save Bucky from his own demons.Rape/Non-Con warning only for mentions of it; no explicit scenes





	1. Chapter I

Steve, Bucky, and Sam stood in the deteriorating lab of an abandoned HYDRA outpost in the country-side of Italy. Dust and grime coated the nearly century-old tile floor and painted brick walls. The building was clearly taken by HYDRA and re-purposed as a laboratory and research facility. Everything was broken and falling down; rot had long since destroyed the integrity of the wooden staircases, and rust had eaten away at pips and metal fixtures, leaving many with holes. However, in the middle of one lab stood a metal box that looked rather like a tall 1950's refrigerator with a small window in the front. "Oh my…" Steve dashed over to a cryo-chamber The shape of a face could be seen inside, but the frost on the window obscured the features from identification.

"That looks like an older model of the chamber I was kept in." Bucky muttered darkly.

"There's writing on the side, like a label," Steve replied. "My Italian isn't great; how's your's, Buck?"

"Passable." Bucky crossed the room to the chamber. Tilting his head, he tried to make out the old, blurred writing. "Shadow. It says 'The Shadow'."

"Well, there a bunch of file cabinets over here," Sam said, pointing to the rusty, dust-covered shapes across the room. "Maybe there's a file on this guy," Steve and Sam crossed to the cabinets, and each yanked a drawer open to start looking through the files.

"I don't think it's a guy," Bucky muttered.

"Huh?" Sam turned to the ex-assassin.

"This chamber is nearly a foot shorter than me, and I'm not that much taller than average," Bucky answered. "Have to be pretty short for guy, don't you think?"

"I was shorter than that once upon a time, Buck," Steve grinned.

"Not that many fellas are as small as you were." Bucky replied with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Haven't met another guy yet who is as scrawny and short as you were, Punk."

Steve's eyes never left the files he was scanning as his grin widened. "Jerk."

"Well, when you two are finished with your BFF-thing, I think I've got something." Sam groused. "File for 'The Shadow'." He flipped the think file open. "Ooo, I call dibs."

"What?" Steve shot a confused look in Sam

"Well, Frosty's right," He grinned. "It's a girl, and she's kinda cute." He looked back down at the file and shifted some papers. "Whoa, she really was doll," Sam held up old, black-and-white photograph. "back in you guys' day." The photo showed a small, pale-complexioned girl with fair hair, curled and pinned back. She wore an World War II-era Army nurse's uniform.

Bucky strode over, and grabbed the photo from Sam. Images of the same face, golden hair and blue eyes shining as she smiled and laughed, flickered through his mind. "I know her," he breathed. "Who is she?"

Steve snatched the photo from his hand. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He held the photo reverently, tears welling in his eyes.

"Cap? You know her?" Sam questioned.

"Steve?" Bucky asked. "Did we know her? Who is she?"

"You have no idea, Buck?" Steve looked up at him surprised.

"No," Bucky answered. "But I feel like I should."

"You should," Steve looked back down at the photo, gently caressing the face there with gloved fingers. "She's my little sister, Grace. The three of us grew up together. She was a nurse during the war."

"Great, I have no hope at all, do I, Rogers?" Sam grumbled

'Not a chance, pal."

"Perfect" Sam huffed as he looked back down at the file. 'Norma Grace Rogers'," Sam read as he continued to shift through papers. "Seriously?  _Norma?_ Who names their daughter Norma?"

"My parents," Steve deadpanned. "But she went by Grace or Gracie."

"I would too, if I was her." Sam replied "The rest of it is in German and Italian."

"It surprised us when the Army took her as a nurse." Bucky quietly interjected.

Steve grinned softly. "Yeah, that's right.

"Surprised you?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "she was not much better off than I was before the serum. She was tiny, even smaller than me, but didn't get sick nearly as often as I did." He shook his head and looked back toward the chamber, eyes misting over again. "You don't….you—you d—don't think….."

"She's alive in there?" Sam finished. "Why not? You guys survived being iced."

"Because of our serums," Steve argued.

"Yeah, well, this file is awfully thick for a girl who got picked up, stuck in a POW camp, then randomly frozen." Sam held up the file. It was at least an inch or so thick.

Bucky closed his eyes and hung head. "He's got a point, Steve."

Steve stiffened. "What are you saying?"

Sam took a deep breath before speaking. "She was a lot more than just a POW for them to have this much on her, Steve—"

"It's most likely that they experimented on her like they did on me," Buck interrupted.

"No…" Steve shook his head in denial. "Those…." He kicked a rusting metal table in frustration. Quickly, he tapped on his ear comm to speak to their pilot. "Get in touch with Stark. We need to get a cryo-chamber back to New York and thaw the person inside." Ten minutes, the pilot had an answer for Steve. "Mr. Stark says he'll have a Stark-jet here in four hours, and that they're prepping the labs for the thawing."

"Thanks." He turned to the chamber, gently touching the window. "Hang on, Gracie," he whispered. "Bucky and I are coming."


	2. Chapter II

**__ ** **_Brooklyn, December 8, 1941._ **

Bucky strolled down the sidewalk to the Rogers' apartment building. Seeing a person in a familiar navy blue wool coat sitting on the front steps of the building, a teasing grin spread out on his face. "Why the long face, babydoll?"

He had always called tiny Norma Grace Rogers "babydoll". He remembered when she was born. She had come six weeks early, and Sarah Rogers had barely survived the ordeal. The little bundle of pink had been so small, his young mind thought the baby looked more like a babydoll than a person, all yellow curls and green-blue eyes, so that's what he called her. It took Bucky nearly a year to call his best friend's sister by her name, and somehow the moniker stuck so that eighteen years later, he still called her by the nickname that Steve would have punched any other fellow for using in reference to Grace.

"Steve went to the enlistment office this morning, too." Grace answered his question heavily.

"Too? What makes you think that I went to enlist this morning?" he cocked his head, stalling.

"Because that's where you just came from," she sighed. "If you were coming from your house, you would be coming from the opposite direction, and we all know what happened yesterday." She looked up at Bucky. "You make it in?"

"Yep,"

She nodded with a small smile. "I knew you would. I'm proud of you, Buck." She stood and hugged her childhood friend, now familiar tingling spread down her spine as his arms circled her shoulders. Grace pulled away quickly to look up into his blue-gray eyes, tipping her head back because of their height difference. Her stomach performed a little flip-floppy dance as their eyes met, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. Grace's feelings for her brother's best friend had gone beyond friendship for at least a year now, but she knew she did not have a chance with Bucky. She was his pal's sister; he practically saw her as his own little sister. She was also five years younger, and he usually dated girls within a year or so of his own age.

"What about the punk?" Bucky asked.

"You know, 'The Punk' has a name."

"You're right; my mistake." Bucky raised his hands in a surrender gesture. "What about  _Stevie_?"

"Jerk," Grace rolled her eyes, then grew sober. "He didn't make it. Got 4F-ed."

"Wow, I'll bet he's disappointed," Bucky sighed.

"Yeah, that's an understatement, considering they took me." Grace answered, not looking him in the eye.

Bucky shrugged "I guess it's understa—wait, what?" His eyes widened.

"They took me," Grace repeated, raising her eyes to meet his. "The Army Nurse Corps. I start training next week."

"Oh gosh, Grace," Bucky gasped. "What were you thinking? What were  _they_  thinking?" he gripped her elbows, making her face him.

"What are you talking about?" Grace asked confused. "I was thinking the same as you boys. I'm young and able. I can help."

"You're tiny! I know you're strong for your size and all, but you'll be squashed like a bug if you're sent to the front!"

"So it's 'understandable' when Steve tries to join up, but I get in, and it's 'you'll be squashed'?" she retorted. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we aren't that different, Steve and I."

"Well, you never been as sick as he has," Bucky, replied. "but the big difference is this: He's a twenty-two-year-old fella. You're a eighteen-year-old girl barely outta high school."

"So, because I'm girl, I can't give myself to my country?" Fire sparked in her brilliant blue eyes, something Bucky had rarely seen.

"No, babydoll," Bucky tried soothed her quickly ruffling feathers. "I just mean, there will plenty of ways for girls like you to help here at home. Volunteer stuff, you know?"

"What if I don't want to do volunteer work? There are lots of mothers who can do that sort of thing, but can't go overseas as nurses, Buck. I can."

"Wait, you  _want_  to get sent over there?" he asked, alarmed. The little girl in front of him did not even come level with his shoulders. At first glance, many confused Grace for a thirteen or fourteen-year-old-girl. Only her clothes, and the way she pinned up her hair distinguished her from kids still in school. Grace was strong, though. She worked at a dressmaker's shop, and often had to heft whole bolts of cloth that were bigger than she was.

The longer Bucky looked Grace over, the more he realized that the blue-green-eyed, frizzy-yellow-haired little girl that grew up hanging from his and Steve's coat-tails was being replaced by a determined, independent, young woman with sky blue eyes and golden curls.

"Yes, if I'm good enough to be sent over," She finally answered.

"Grace, guys like me and Steve, we join up to keep girls like you safe. Out of harm's way," Bucky sighed. He could sense that arguing with Grace would get him nothing. "Just forgive me if I pray you don't get sent over."

"Buck—"

"Babydoll, if you get sent overseas too, who will send me amazing oatmeal raisin cookies?" Bucky pouted, effectively changing the subject. "You know Mom and Rebecca's can't hold a candle to yours, and I shudder to think what I'd get if Steve tried to make them."

"You'll just have to make do without, Soldier." She smiled up at him.

"Bucky!" Steve's voice rang out behind them. "Did you go yet?" Steve dashed down the steps to greet his best friend.

"Yeah, I went early this morning to avoid long lines. Still had to wait forever just to get in the door."

"And?"

"They took me. I head out for bootcamp in two weeks."

Steve smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "That's great, Buck."

"At least they gave you more time than they gave me." Grace said.

Steve sighed. "Gracie already tell you?"

"That she's decided to go play nurse with the big girls?" Bucky grinned. "Yeah, she did. Since Little Miss Nightingale here starts training on Monday, whadaya say to going out this week-end? Celebrate best nurse the Army will ever see." Bucky slung arm around each Rogers' shoulders.

"I don't know about that," Grace blushed.

"Well, you did have a lot of practice on me," Steve grinned at his sister.

"And me," Bucky added. "Remember that year we all got influenza so bad, and Grace here was the only one to not catch it?"

"Boy, did I feel like Florence Nightingale that January," Grace replied, as memories flashed through her mind. "I'm pretty sure the shovelers kept the sidewalks clear just for me, what with all the trips I made back and forth between the apartment and your folk's house."

"Babydoll, I'm pretty your walking is what kept the sidewalks clear, not the shovelers." Bucky ducked his head slightly. "If we hadn't been so sick, I'd have insisted you stayed home. That was a very cold winter." He added quietly

"I was fine, Bucky." Grace reached up and placed her hand over his hand that was on her shoulder. "Gave me an opportunity to get away from Steve for a while." She added with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Don't make me act an adult and separate you two, kiddos," Bucky laughed at the siblings.

"Uh, Buck, you're already standing between us," Steve pointed out.

"You know what I mean, Punk."

"Jerk."

"Boys! Behave or I won't let Bucky stay for dinner," Grace threatened, crossing her arms on her chest.

"What's on menu?" Bucky asked, trying to act nonchalant. "If I'm going to be threatened, I'd like to know what I'm being threatened with."

"Stew and rolls," Steve answered.

" _Homemade_  rolls." Grace added sweetly.

Bucky's gulped slightly as he pretended to fix his tie and straighten his jacket. "I think we'd better straighten our act up, Steve." He said, to which Steve rolled his eyes. Grace's beef and vegetable stew was amazing, and her yeast rolls were even better. Apparently, her rolls were Bucky's comfort food (besides the oatmeal raisin cookies). Whenever he was ill, the only thing he ever asked her to bring him was a batch of rolls.

"I thought you might say that," Grace replied in the same sweet voice. "So, after lunch, you fellas will help me chop vegetables, right? You know that I like to let it all simmer for several hours."

Bucky made a great show of bowing with a flourish to Grace. "At your service, my lady."

Grace quirked an eyebrow at his antics. "Good choice."


	3. Chapter III

**_Two months later._ **

Grace Rogers wearily climbed the stairs to the third floor apartment where she knew Steve had already started on dinner. "Good evening, brother mine," she called out as she entered the tiny apartment.

"Evening, Miss Nightingale," Steve answered, grinning at her. Wisps of curls escaped from the nurse's cap and numerous hair pins in her hair, and her white nurse's [uniform](https://shoplook.io/polyvore-set/1143515) showing under her navy wool coat.

"Long day?"

"Yeah. By lunchtime, I lost count of the fellas I checked in." Grace shrugged out of her coat. "What did you put on for dinner?"

"Pork chops," Steve answered.

"Alright, I'm be there in a minute," Grace said, heading to room to change. A few minutes later, she came out in a flannel skirt and a blouse. She poked around the cabinets. "Potatoes and peas sound alright with the chops?" She asked, pulling out a couple of potatoes and can of peas.

"Sounds great," Steve answered from his place by the stove where he was seasoning the chops.

"You keep those from burning, while I cut up these potatoes."

"Yes, Nurse Rogers."

Grace shook her head. "Did we get anything from Bucky today?"

"No, no letters today,"

"Hmm, he's had plenty of time to answer," she muttered to herself.

"Gracie, he's just at bootcamp; he won't be leaving for a while yet," Steve soothed. "He'll come home before they ship him out."

"I know, but still….it makes me nervous anyway."

Steve eyed his sister curiously. She had yet to make eye contact with him. She stared down at the potatoes as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Anxiety rolled off her in waves. "Grace, is there a reason you're anxious to hear from Bucky?"

"No reason," she answered, still staring at the potatoes. "I did send him cookies this time. I hope they made it intact."

"Come on, I know you aren't worried about him liking the cookies. You know as well as I do that he will eat every last crumb, whether they arrive in pieces or not," Steve laid a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on, Sis?"

"Nothing, Steve," Grace sighed. "I've known Buck my whole life; I care about him, and I worry for him. End of story."

"You—you  _like_  him, don't you?" Steve's ability to see straight through Grace's attempt at barriers could be uncanny sometimes.

"No, I don't like him," she slowly turned to face him. "I—I l—love him, Steve."

Steve's eyes grew wide. "How long?"

"About a year now." Grace moved past Steve to turn the pork chops and ensure they didn't burn. "At first, I thought it was just a silly, little fancy, so I went out with other guys. Went out to a few times with Damien Ferretti, went to the school dance with Matt Sellers…"

"Yeah, I remember."

"They all were nice fellas," Grace continued heavily. "but….none of them could shake the feeings I have for Bucky."

"Oh, Grace." Steve hugged his little sister tightly. "Does Bucky know?"

"No," Grace pulled away and squared her shoulders. "and it's going to stay that way."

"Grace—"

"No, Steve, You know he'll either feel sorry for me and compelled to take me out, or he stay way and make things awkward between the two of you. I'm not doing that to him. Besides, I'm not his type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve put his hands on his hips. "I've seen him take plenty of gorgeous blondes out on dates."

"Thanks, Steve, but that's just it. They weren't in it for the long haul, and they knew he wasn't either. He doesn't want to go steady with anyone. He just wants a few evenings of fun. They were all okay with just a few dinners and dances," She turned to Steve. "Plus, they weren't so small that they could be squashed like a bug, were they?"

Steve hung his head. His sister had a similar problem to his own: being too small. In her case, fellas liked petites, sure, but not so small that they have to bend down to dance with her or worry about losing her in a crowd.

"Alright, alright, I won't say anything," he conceded, but he smiled inside. His sister could do a lot worse than Bucky, in his opinion. He was hard worker; he had job an automobile factory, hefting large car parts. He did not need to work. His father made good money as a lawyer, but Bucky did not sponge off his parents, not one cent. As far as girls went, Bucky did go out with a lot of girls, but Steve knew that once Bucky found the right one, he would fall for her. Hard. Probably so hard he would never recover, as they say. Maybe "the right one" was right under his best friend's nose. In Steve's mind, Bucky could never find a better girl than Grace.


	4. Chapter IV

**_A few weeks later…_ **

Grace arrived home from the enlistment office late. The apartment was dark.

"Steve?" she turned to flick on the lamp by the door, but two strong arms encircled her waist. She screamed as the lights suddenly turned on. She was set back on her feet, and she spun around to find her assailant. A pair of gray eyes laughed down at her.

"Miss me, Babydoll?" There stood Bucky in his dress uniform, smirking at his success. Steve stood by the light switch, grinning.

"James Buchanan Barnes!" She scolded. "I oughta kick your tail down all three flights of stairs and out the front door!"

"It's  _Sergeant_ James Buchanan Barnes to you, Miss Nightingale," Bucky corrected. "and is that any way to treat a soldier on leave?"

"No, but it's an excellent way to treat  _you_  for scaring me!"

"Ouch," Bucky mock-winced. "Steve, you might wanna teach your little sister to pull her punches."

"Now why would I ever do that?" Steve grinned wider. "Hearing you two go at it like an old married couple is quite amusing."

"Punk."

"Jerk."

"Boys…" Grace's voice took on a warning tone.

"Yes, ma'am," the men chorused, each rolling his eyes.

"Now, if dinner is going to be anytime soon, we'd better—"

"Actually, Steve and I decided we'd go out for dinner," Bucky said. "So go change out of all that white, Nurse Rogers." With a roll of her own eyes, she sent him a mock-salute, and went to change out of her uniform. Twenty minutes later, [she ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/700661654501943145/)came out in a navy blue skirt and a pale pink blouse, her hair re-pinned up.

"You look swell in pink, Gracie," Steve smiled.

"Thanks, Stevie," She winked at him, knowing he hated the nickname. "Everyone says I should wear blue."

"However, Steve's right," Bucky said. "As I recall, your gown for the school dance this last spring was light pink, and What's-his-name couldn't keep his eyes off you."

Grace shook her head. "That was the year before, and the staring only lasted until we got to the dance. Katherine McPhee showed up in emerald green."

"Oh?"

"She has green eyes and red hair. Very red hair," Grace explained. "She really did look stunning that night."

"So did you, Grace." Bucky smiled softly.

"Not rea—"

"Excuse me! I drove you, Becca, and your fellas to the dance; I would know." Bucky said. "Now, if you are finished insulting my pal's sister, let's go eat. I'm starving."

At the diner, they found a booth in a quiet corner. Steve and Grace took one side, and Bucky sat across from them. They each ordered a hamburger and fries with a milkshake for afterward. Bucky kept the two Rogers in stitches as he regaled stories from bootcamp.

While they were waiting for their milkshakes, Grace excused herself to the ladies' room. When she came out, three loud, young soldiers were at the counter. One of them spotted her. "You look kinda young to be pinning your hair up, Dollface. Your mama know you took it out of the pig-tails?" he drawled with smirk

"How I do my hair is none of your business…" She glanced at his insignia. "Private. Please, excuse me." He was up in a flash, and took her by the arm.

"We didn't mean to make you snap your cap*, Doll," he cajoled. "Why don't you sit down and have a Coca-Cola on me?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, it's a shame for a pretty little dame like you to sit and eat alone."

"Who said I was alone?" She asked politely, "Now, please let go."

"Aw, come on, Babydoll—"

"Excuse me, did I give you permission to address me like that?" she hissed in annoyance. "It's 'Miss', and I shouldn't have to ask a second time to be let go."

"Wait a minute," one of the other soldiers, a corporal, said. "I know you. You're that little nurse from the enlistment office. At least five fellas there with me said they wouldn't mind taking you in their pocket to the front with them. You're just about small enough to fit." He smirked at her.

"Is there a problem here?" Bucky and Steve suddenly appeared at Grace's side.

"No, there isn't," Grace answered. "You, Corporal, can tell your pals from me that they are barking up the wrong tree. If they want a girl to carry in their pockets, I suggest cutting a picture out of a magazine." She turned her gaze on the one still holding her arm. "Now, Private, let me go."

"Come on, Doll, we were—"

"Let my sister go," Steve ground out.

"Yeah, let the lady go, Private," Bucky said.

"And who are you to tell us what to do?"

"I'm her brother," Steve growled. "So let her go before I punch you."

"No!" Grace sent a murderous glare to all of the men. Bucky could almost swear he saw little blue flames spark in her eyes. "There will be no fighting," she said firmly. "This is what will happen: The private will let go of me, and you three will go back to your meal quietly." She turned to Steve and Bucky. "We will return to our table and enjoy our milkshakes in peace. Am I clear?" She swung her piercing eyes back to the soldier holding her.

"As crystal," he smirked, leaning in closer to Grace. "Geez, fellas, who knew how hotsy-totsy* a mad, bossy, little nurse be?" Grace ripped her arm her arm from his grip and smacked him hard across the cheek.

"Pray that I don't have the  _pleasure_  of performing your next check-up, Soldier" she ground out before sweeping back to her table with her head held high. The men stared after her, three in shock, two in admiration.

"Atta girl, Babydoll," Bucky grinned.

"Wait, you're her—"

"Naw," Bucky shook his head. "but knowing her since she was born has privileges."

"Oh? Such as?" the private raised his eyebrow suggestively.

"Nicknames and the best oatmeal raisin cookies in the USA" Bucky answered frankly, guiding Steve back to their table before he could lash out. They sat down to find Grace sucking her milkshake down furiously as she seethed.

"Why wouldn't you let me punch him?" Steve asked in aggitation. "The jerk's got it coming."

"It's simple, Steve," She answered innocently. "You punch him, he flips his wig*, a fight breaks out and I'm too humiliated to show me face in here ever again. Now, I punch him, and all he can do is nurse his face with a cold glass of Coca-Cola. On top of that, he now has the humiliation of having been put down by little dame like me in the middle of a diner, with a sergeant looking on, no less."

Bucky shook head ruefully, admiration showing in his eyes. "You just beat him far worse than the two us ever could." Steve send him a questioning look. "Trust me, his buddies will  _never_  let him live this one down," Bucky said.

A small smile broke out on Steve's face as he understood. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he hugged her to his side. "Proud of you, Gracie."

"Thanks, Stevie. It's just common-sense; use his weakness against him," Grace gave a small grin. "He was trying to impress me and his friends, so I just refused to be impressed, making him look bad in front of his pals."

"You ever think of getting into strategy?" Bucky asked. "If the Army puts you in charge, I figure we'll have this war taken care of before summer's over."

"Very funny,  _Sergeant_. You know they would never listen a five-foot-one pipsqueak like me."

"Now, now, there are no pipsqueaks here," Bucky argued. "Steve might be a punk, but no pipsqueak." He pointed to Grace. "You are smart little dame who just so happens to be...travel-sized."

"'Travel-sized'? Seriously, Buck? Is that even a thing?" Steve scoffed.

"Travel-sized, huh?" Grace asked, thoughtfully sipping her strawberry shake. "Wonder if that's why they decided to send me over."

"What?" Bucky and Steve gasped.

"You're being shipped out?" Steve asked.

"Just got the orders today," Grace nodded. "Apparently, I work well in stressful situations. They want me to be a field nurse. We leave for Italy in August." She sent a small smile to her brother. "At least I'll be home for your birthday."

"Grace—"

"We've discussed this, Steve. If they want me to go, I'm going."

Bucky reached across the table and covered her small hands with his own. He felt callouses on them that had not been there when he left. "Babydoll, we're just worried about you."

"I know." Grace murmured. Her heart swelled and her stomach flip-flopped at his touch, and he had no idea what he was doing to her. She lightly squeezed his hand and withdrew hers. "I'll be okay, fellas. Really. They wouldn't be sending us if it was as hopeless as all that."

They quickly finished their milkshakes, and Bucky drove them home. He walked Grace and Steve up their apartment. Steve fished in his pockets for the key, and let them in.

"I'll only stay a minute," Bucky said. He gently tugged on Grace's elbow and pulled her aside. "I just want to say, well, I'm proud of you, Grace."

"What for?" she asked, confused. "The jerk in the diner?"

"I'm talking about shipping out with the field nurses." He looked her in the eye. Grace took a deep breath to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. "I'm worried to death about you being over there, but I'm really proud of you for be willing to go. It won't be easy, especially for a little dame like you."

"I'll be alright, Bucky,"

"I know you will," He hugged her for a moment, then grinned teasingly down at her. "If tonight was any indication, heaven help anything that gets in your way."

"Bucky," she groaned, and lightly smacked his chest.

"Hey, I just call the shots as I see them," he protested. "Good night, Punk." He called over to Steve, who had been extremely interested in a shelf of books for the last minute or so.

"Yeah, yeah, same to you, Jerk."

"Seriously, you two, anybody listening to you would think you're enemies, not best friends." Grace shook her head.

"Good night, Babydoll," Bucky called over his shoulder as he left.

"Good night, Sergeant."

The door closed and Steve grinned at his sister. "Anybody listening to the two of you would think you're going steady, not just friends."

* * *

**40's slang:**

**Snap your cap- get mad or angry**

**Hotsy-totsy- pleasing or attractive**

**Flip your wig (top)- to lose control of yourself**


	5. Chapter V

**_July 4, 1942._ **

"Where's Steve?" Bucky asked. He stood the kitchen of the Rogers' apartment helping Grace with a surprise for Steve's birthday.

"He's supposed to be getting groceries, but I suspect he's gone to another recruitment office."

"Another?"

"Well, the one here wouldn't take him," She answered absently and she carefully pulled a small cake from the oven. Bucky watched her expert hands flip the cake pan and neatly transfer the cake onto a white cake plate. Then, she covered the top of the vanilla cake with sliced strawberries, not having enough sugar rations to make icing. "You think he'll like it?" she asked, stepping back to survey her handiwork.

Bucky could not help but grin; Grace was putting a lot of effort into this birthday for Steve. It would be the last celebration they would have before she left next month. He glanced across the room. Red, white, and blue ribbon scraps from Grace's dressmakers were tied to the curtain rod of little window by the table. A white cloth covered the little table, small package wrapped in brown paper and tied in blue ribbon sat off to the side, leaving most of the table empty and waiting for the cake to its place of prominence.

"Looks spiffy*, Babydoll. I think he'll love it," Bucky said. "but he'll turn as red as the strawberries when he find you've gone through all this trouble."

"Some streamers and a cake, trouble? Seriously, Buck, I didn't even ice the cake," Grace waved his comment off as she placed the cake in its proper place

"I know, but he never likes much attention."

"Well, I like to do for my boys, so he'll just get over it," Grace answered.

Suddenly, the apartment door opened. "Get over what?" Steve called. He entered the kitchen, to find it decked out with streamers. "What's all this? I told you to not go into any trouble for my birthday, Grace." He sent his sister a scolding look.

"Hey, it's not just your birthday today, Punk," Bucky teased. "Happy Independence Day."

"Happy Independence Day, Bucky," Steve answered, setting the grocery bags in arms on the counter. "but I'm not dumb. I know my sister. This is about my birthday."

Bucky turned to a guiltily smiling Grace with a shrug. "Sorry, Babydoll, I tried."

"Happy birthday, Stevie," Grace giggled and hugged her brother tightly. He tried to scowl at her, but failed. Her smile and giggles were infectious and nearly impossible to resist, in Steve's opinion.

"It's a good thing I love you, Gracie," He answered good-naturedly, hugging her back. "I thought you'd be at the enlistment office after work."

"I took today off," Grace shrugged.

"You shouldn't have," Steve shook his head. "Don't they need you?"

"There are at least ten nurses there; they'll live one evening without me." Grace answered. "Your birthday is more important to me than dealing with dozens of recruits, some of which skipped out on manners class."

"Grace, has someone messed with you?" Bucky immediately asked, concerned.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle," Grace firmly replied. "It's nothing to worry about." She handed Steve a knife. "Now, cut your cake, birthday boy, before it gets any colder."

He took the knife from her and pecked a kiss to her cheek. "Yes ma'am."

She turned to Bucky, "You sit down, and I'll get plates."

"I swear, Steve, this nursing thing has made a bossy little dame of our Grace ," Bucky commented as he complied.

"Oh no, she's always been bossy with me," Steve answered.

"Hey!"

"Just being honest, Gracie."

"And here I spent half my afternoon baking you a cake." she sighed, setting plates on the table. Steve carefully cut the first piece and put it on a plate.

"Let the baker be the first eat the fruits of her labor," he said, handing it to Grace.

Grace shook her head, taking the knife from him. "Birthday boy always gets the first piece." Deftly, she cut a second piece and handed it to Bucky and finally cut one for herself.

"Well, boys, how did it turn out?" she asked, a hint of anxiety coloring her voice. Both Steve and Bucky took a bite.

Bucky pretended to think it over as he swallowed. "Mmm, it isn't half bad, Babydoll."

"'Isn't half bad'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't listen to the jerk, Gracie, it's a swell cake." Steve said.

"I'm teasing," Bucky added. "I think I actually like the strawberries better than icing."

"Oh, good," Grace sighed. "You had me worried there for a minute that it didn't turn out. I really didn't have as much sugar as the recipe called for."

"I think the strawberries balance it out," Steve said. "It's really good."

"I'm glad you boys approve." Grace smiled in relief as the boys finished off their pieces. "Present time!"

"Now, Grace, I told you—"

"To not spend money on a present. I didn't," she said. "and, technically, it's not really from me. It's from Mom."

Steve's eyes widened as she placed the little brown-papered package in his hands. "Mom?"

"She gave it to me to give to you when I thought the time was right. It's taken me a few years because it needed to fixed."

"Fixed?"

"Yeah, Bucky took care of getting it repaired, so I swear, I didn't spend a dime on it." Grace answered. "Now open it already, silly."

Carefully removing the ribbon and paper, Steve revealed a small leather case only a little bigger than his palm. Opening it, he found a small compass. "Is this...."

Grace smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Dad's compass from the war? Yes."

"Happy Birthday, Steve," Bucky grinned.

"Mom was going to give it to you when she thought you were ready for it, and she passed that responsibility to me." Grace added. "With all that's going on, I thought it was time you had it."

"Thanks, you two." Steve grinned, blushing as his eyes looked suspiciously moist.

"Come on, no sentimentality," Bucky teased. "I'm gonna get this thing set up."

"What are you setting up, Buck?" Steve asked warily. "If it's a blind date, I'm not going, birthday or not."

"I  _was_  gonna take us out dancing, and, yes, I was going to find you a date besides your sister," he answered. 'not that Grace is a bad partner." He added at her dark glance. "Grace is a great dancer, but she put her foot down, saying you would want a quiet evening at home."

"Well, she's right."

"So, we compromised," Bucky spoke over him. "The three of us will stay in and dance to your parent's old records."

"But—"

"No buts. Help me push the furniture back."

Steve rolled his eyes, but helped Bucky shove the sofa, chairs and coffee table against the walls to create a mini dance floor. Grace brought out a stack of records from their parent's old room.

"Would you prefer the Quickstep or the Charleston, Steve?" she asked

"Who said I was dancing?"

"I did." Grace replied. "It's your birthday; you're dancing. Since I'm the only girl here, that means you're dancing with me. So, pick your poison, Stevie."

"Oh, come on, Bucky is—"

"Bucky is nothing right now."

"Ouch!" Bucky pressed a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt.

"This is Steve's day. So, yes, you take second fiddle, Buck. Sorry to break it to you." Grace put her hands on her hips. "So, what will it be? Worry about your breathing with the Charleston, or worry about stepping on my toes with the Quickstep? Unless you would rather do the Lindy Hop?" she winked.

"Good heavens, no!" Steve sighed. "I guess we do the Charleston; I can always let Bucky take over when I'm out of breath, and I won't have worry about your toes."

"You haven't stepped on my toes in years, Steve Rogers," Grace rolled her eyes and put a record on. Strains from a piano and several trumpets filled the room.

Taking Grace's hand, Steve led her to middle of the room. "It's a good thing I love you, Norma Grace," Her bright smile was soon mirrored in Steve's face as they danced until he was out of breath and dropped into a chair, panting.

"Don't worry, Babydoll, re-enforcements are coming," Bucky grinned and took Steve's place at Grace's side. In spite of the fact that she was at least a foot shorter, Grace and Bucky danced really well together. Years of practice taught them how to compensate for their differences, and they moved through several dances in perfect harmony. Steve's grin widen as he watched. Grace practically glowed with happiness. She loved dancing, and here she was dancing with the fella she secretly loved. Steve knew the whole dancing thing was Bucky's idea and Bucky had no idea of Grace's feelings for him. However, it was getting harder and harder to not tell him.

Frankly, Steve was ready to smack Bucky around the head for being so blind; now that Steve knew, there were moments where Grace's feelings for Bucky were painfully obvious to him. However, Bucky seemed completely oblivious to the way Grace lit up when he entered the room, and Steve kept his promise to his sister. Finally, Bucky and Grace plopped down onto the sofa, all smiles and out of breath.

"It's been a while since we've cut a rug*, Babydoll, but you're still a pretty swell hoofer*."

"Well, thanks. I had a pretty swell teacher." Grace chuckled. "Well, I guess I'd better start on dinner. How does a meat pie sound, birthday boy?

"Sounds perfect." Steve smiled back at her.

**40's slang:**

**Spiffy: elegant in apperance**

**Cut a rug: to dance**

**Hoofer: dancer**

**Swell: great or wonderful**


	6. Chapter VI

**_August 4, 1942._ **

"You don't need to worry about a thing, Grace. I've already  taken care of everything, including dates for you and Steve." Bucky stood in the Rogers' apartment. He had arranged for himself, Grace, and Steve to all go out dancing since Grace was shipping out in two days.

"What can't Steve and I just go together?" Grace sighed. "You know that it doesn't matter how little you tell them up front, our dates always slip away with someone else within twenty minutes."

"I can't really speak for Marjorie's friend, but I can speak for Davy Mattlock. I met him at boot camp. He loves dancing, and so do you. You'll get along fine."

"If you say so." Grace shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I'll go get ready."

"That's the spirit." Bucky grinned while Steve just rolled his eyes. Steve was about as optimistic about these dates as Grace was, but for his sister's night, he would deal with it. Bucky had secretly arranged for a cake at the dance hall they were going to so that they could celebrate Grace's October birthday before she left. So, he went and changed into a newer shirt, a nice tie, and a suit jacket.

Thirty minutes later, Grace emerged from her room wearing her beaded black dancing dress. It had been their mother's before she died, so it was a little old-fashioned, but Steve and Bucky thought Grace looked great in it, nevertheless. The sides of her hair were held up by tortoiseshell combs that belonged to the Rogers' grandmother, the rest of her shoulder-length curls free. A thin line of winged eyeliner edged her eyelashes, and lipstick colored her lips a fashionable deep red.

Bucky looked her up and down. "Wow, lookin' ritzy there, Babydoll,"

"Well, thanks, Sarge. You boys clean up pretty well." She smiled shyly, using her new nickname for him. She turned to Steve, who was tying his tie for the fourth time.

"I can't get it straight," he moaned. She batted his hands away and tied it for him, making sure it was straight and his collar laid flat. Taking a step back, she straightened his suit and brushed away invisible lent and wrinkles.

"Very spiffy," she grinned up at him.

"Thanks."

"We ready, kiddies?" Bucky asked. "We still have to pick up Marjorie, Nora, and Davy."

"Are we all gonna fit your car, Bucky?" Steve asked.

"Well, I figure we fellas will fit up front and the ladies can have the back."

"Still sounds a little tight, but okay," Steve shrugged.

The threesome went down and piled into the Barnes family car, boys up front, Grace in the back. First, they picked up the girls. Marjorie and Nora seemed nice enough, though a little bit air-headed. Then, the picked up Davy, who also seemed nice even though it was clear that Bucky was the only person there he knew.

At the dance hall, Bucky helped Marjorie out of the car, and Steve did the same for his date, Nora, but she seemed uncomfortable with the fact that he was three inches shorter than she was. Davy seemed more concerned at first with Grace's age.

"Uh, hi, Barnes didn't tell me that you were...uh...so...young." He smiled patronizingly as he extended his hand to help her out of the car.

"I'll be nineteen in October, Mr. Mattlock," Grace replied, placing her small hand in his much larger one.

"Oh...um....pardon me...." He floundered as she slid out and let him closed the door behind her. "It's just you...look...."

"Much younger than that?" she finished. "Don't worry about it. It is a common mistake." She smiled and tried to put him at ease by placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. He tried to draw her arm further through his, but found that he had to awkwardly lean over in order to do it. The three pairs made it inside and found a nice, relatively quiet corner.

"Would you know the Charleston, Miss Rogers?" Davy asked as the band struck up lively old 20's number.

"Does she know the Charleston," Steve scoffed good-naturedly.

"It's Grace, and yes, I do." Grace grinned and took his hand.

"I'm gonna tell you right now, Mattlock," Bucky added. "Miss Grace here is well named; she cuts a mean rug*, pal."

"Is that so?" Nora asked. "What about you, Mr. Rogers?"

"I'm not nearly as good as Grace, but I can try if you'd like." Steve honestly answered.

"No thanks, I think I'd like a drink first," Nora absently replied as she turned back to Marjorie. The raven-haired girl whispered into the redhead's ear and slipped away to the bar. Bucky asked Marjorie to dance, and she readily agreed, leaving Steve alone at the table to watch. Quickly, he spotted Grace and Davy. They seemed to be having trouble. It looked like he was thrown off by her size difference, and she kept trying to match his rhythm to no avail. After a dance which would have usually left Grace breathless and smiling, the pair came back to the table with an air of slight frustration. They sat out one dance, making small talk with Steve, then Davy asked Grace for the next one.

"We struck out before; maybe we can hit a home run with a foxtrot," he nodded toward the dancefloor.

"Maybe we can," Grace smiled widely and let him lead her away from the table. However, they had no more success with the Foxtrot as with the Charleston. Davy kept stepping on her toes because he kept forgetting to shorten his stride to accommodate his partner. Grace lengthened her's as much as she could, but it did not help much. Once again, he could not seem to keep the right rhythm, so Grace tried to help him, but it was to no avail.

"This just isn't working, Davy," she huffed. "Why don't you just go back to the table for now? I'm going to run to the powder room for a moment." In the ladies' room, Grace dabbed her hairline with her handkerchief and adjust her hair combs to make sure that they did not fall out. Leaving, she soon found Bucky and Davy in a corner. Smiling, she made her way towards them but stopped in her tracks as she heard what Davy was saying.

"What's with setting me up with the kid, Barnes? She dresses a bit fuddy-duddy*, and she looks younger than my sixteen-year-old sister. Shorter than Patty too."

"Grace is not a kid," Bucky answered. "And that dress was her mother's. They've been through a rough last few years; she doesn't have money for a bunch of new dresses, Mattlock."

"If she can't dress for the occasion, why bring her?" Davy huffed. "And far as dancing goes, I don't know what daydream you're in, pal, but she's a pretty dead hoofer*."

Bucky, who had been smiling politely until now, dropped the pretense. "Back in Mrs. Rogers' day, that dress would actually have been considered a bit swanky* for a place like this," he said in a carefully even tone, trying to hold back his anger. "And for the record, I think Grace looks pretty darn swell in it. As for her dancing, I've danced with her for years; geez, I taught her most of it. She's never been a 'dead hoofer' a day in her life."

Davy rolled his eyes, "Then she's all yours, Barnes." He turned away to go back to the table, but Bucky stopped him.

"She's the reason we're here in the first place, you know," Bucky said in a serious tone.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She's shipping out in two days with the Army Nurse Corps. I think a girl that brave is worth celebrating."

Instead of looking ashamed, or even just discomfited, Davy just shrugged. "Whatever you say, pal. I was just looking for a good time."

"Well, you can do just that until you're shipped over, Mr. Mattlock," Grace quietly spoke up. "I wouldn't want you to feel obligated to be my date if I'm not good enough for you."

Davy turned to find right behind him. "Gee, thanks," he answered sarcastically and headed to the bar. Grace, who had been staring down at her shoes the whole time, slowly raised her eyes to Bucky. He could see them glistening with unshed tears.

"Oh, Grace..." He instantly engulfed her in a hug. "Don't listen to anything he said. He's just a big idiot. I'm so sorry,"

"I tried, Bucky, I really did."

"I know, Babydoll. I saw you two." He took the hankie from her hand and gently dabbed her tears away. "I say we prove this wise guy* wrong," He said with grin and nodded towards the dance floor. "You've learned that new-fangled Jitterbug, right?"

Grace nodded. "It's just a variation on the old Lindy Hop, according to my co-worker, Lorraine. She taught me."

"That's what I thought." Bucky's grin widened. "Means we're almost old hats at this. We can....embellish it some; show off a bit."

"We can." Grace's grin grew to match his.

"Then let's do it." Bucky grabbed her hand and drew her out onto the floor. After minute or two, they settled into the rhythm and began throwing in extra steps here and there, soon marking them as one of the most skilled pair of dancers there.

Steve watched them with a soft smile. He did not know what happened, other than Bucky and his Army pal seemed upset with each other. Marjorie, Nora, and Davy returned with drinks from the bar a few minutes later.

"Have you seen Bucky?" Marjorie asked.

"Yeah, he's out there with Gracie," Steve answered, pointing to the couple.

The two girls eyes widened slightly. Nora glanced over to Davy. "Dead hoofer, huh?"

"Well, she certainly couldn't keep her feet out from under mine," he defended. "and her timing was way off."

"Actually, it was your's that was off, Mr. Mattlock," Nora politely pointed out. "I watched you two from the bar."

"She's amazing, " Marjorie commented. "How is it that she and Bucky can dance so well together? There's only an inch or so height difference between Bucky and Davy."

"They've been at it since Mrs. Barnes started giving me and Bucky lessons. We were about twelve." Steve answered. "I've always had two left feet, and he wanted someone else to practice with, so he pulled my little sister into it. She was seven or eight."

"Ten years' practice will do it," Nora said wisely.

Out on the dance floor, Bucky and Grace moved in perfect synchronization. They did not miss a single beat but moved seamlessly from one step to the next, even the improvised ones. Both wore huge smiles. Davy just sat watching with a disgruntled frown.

"Yeah," Steve grinned. "Practice will do it."

A few minutes later, the dance was over. Bucky and Grace returned to the table, laughing and slightly breathless.

"And  _that_ , ladies and gents, is how it's done," Bucky announced as he seated Grace, sending a pointed look to Davy. "I'll be back in a minute; there's something I've got to check on." Several minutes later, he returned with a small round cake, iced with white frosting. "Happy Birthday, Grace" was written in the middle with pink and blue icing. Nineteen candles were evenly lined up around the edge. Bucky proudly set it in front of Grace, then straighten, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hey, everybody, I've got an announcement!" he shouted. The hall quieted. "As you all know, a lot of us fellas are being sent over to the war, but it's not just us fellas. Many women are going too, as nurses. One such little lady is Grace Rogers. She ships out in two days with the Army Nurse Corps. Tonight, we're celebrating her birthday before she leaves us." As if on cue, the band struck up the birthday song, with everyone in the dance hall joining in to sing. As they finished, Grace, who had been sitting there trying not to cry, jumped up and threw her arms around Bucky's neck. The hall erupted into cheers as he slipped his arms around her waist and spun her around. Steve just sat back and smiled knowingly.

Before he set her back on her feet, Bucky whispered into Grace's ear. "Happy birthday, Babydoll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40's slang:
> 
> Cutting a rug: to dance
> 
> Fuddy-Duddy: old-fashioned
> 
> Dead Hoofer: poor dancer
> 
> Swanky: elegant, same as "ritzy"
> 
> Wise guy: smart aleck (negative connotation)
> 
> Note: the Jitterbug, though usually associated with 50's was done in the 40's. If you go on YouTube, there are lots videos of all the dances mentioned.


	7. Chapter VII

**_August 6, 1942_ **

Bucky quickly mounted the steps to the Rogers' apartment. The sun was just barely beginning to tint the deep blue of the eastern sky a deep purple and pink. He knocked quietly on the door and Steve let him in. Grace's suitcase and Army-issued medical pack sat in the corner near the door. Bucky gulped slightly at the sight of the medic helmet resting on top. The thought of Grace going into the warzone set his heart racing and his nerves on edge more than anything else in his life ever had.

"Morning, Bucky," her warm voice floated in from the kitchen. "Eggs will be ready in a minute."

"You're leaving this morning, and you're still cooking breakfast?" He turned to Steve, who shrugged.

"She insisted."

"I haven't left yet, so life will go on just as usual, Buck," she said. "Sit down, fellas, it's ready."

After their breakfast of eggs, bacon, and fresh biscuits, they prepared to leave for the docks. "You got everything, Babydoll?" Bucky asked, picking up the small suitcase as Steve slung the pack on his shoulders.

"Yes, I doubled and triple checked last night, and one last time this morning," Grace nodded firmly, taking her helmet from Bucky. The ride to the docks was a quiet one. Bucky drove, and Steve and Grace sat up front, her luggage placed on the backseat. Steve had one arm around Grace, holding her close as she rested her head on his shoulder. Although Grace always dismissed their worries, Bucky could tell she was terrified of what lay ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her clasp her hands in her lap and her knuckles turn white. He reached over, without taking his off the road, and covered her heads with one of his own. He felt her fingers shift and wrap themselves around his. She squeezed his hand in both of hers to let him know she got his silent message. He looked over at her for a moment.

"You'll be just fine, okay?" he murmured.

"Thanks, Sarge," she answered, squeezing his hand again, then releasing it. At the docks, she first had to check in with her unit, the 85th Field Hospital. After nearly, forty-five minutes of waiting, they reached the table.

"Name and papers," the officer asked in clipped, impatient tones.

"Norma Grace Rogers, " Grace promptly replied, handing him the envelope containing her orders.

"You've brought no more than one suitcase, your medical pack, and your Army-issued helmet?"

"Yes, sir." Bucky answered, motioning to the luggage in his hand and the pack Steve carried.

"Your sending party, Miss?"

"Yes, sir," Grace smiled. "Sergeant Barnes here won't be too far behind us as soon as he gets his orders." She gestured toward Bucky. The officer checked her off his list.

"Safe travels, Nurse Rogers," he said, handing her papers back. "Head straight to the embarkation area, please. Grace thanked him and quickly led the boys away. Pushing through the crowd, the soon reached their destination.

"You're not really allowed beyond this point, fellas," Grace said, nodding toward the rope barricade.

"So this is good-bye, then." Steve comment morosely. With a sigh, he drew Grace into a tight hug, his left hand cradling her head. "You come home safe, you hear me?" he choked out, kissing her cheek.

"Of course," she replied in a trembling voice. "All of the stupid is staying here with you two."

"That's probably a good thing." Steve tried to smile. "I love you, Gracie." He hugged her once more before relinquishing her to Bucky.

"Take of yourself, Grace," Bucky said, taking her hands in his. Grace nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She stared down at their clasped hands, trying not to cry.

"Hey, chin up," he slipped a finger under her chin and gently raised her face. "This will all be over before we know it." She nodded mutely and he grinned roguishly down at her. "Make sure the boys over there know you aren't a pushover* and leave a few Nazis for me, okay?"

"I will," she replied, a sob slipping out.

"Ah, geez, we're not worth crying over." Bucky yanked his handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly wiped her tears away.

"Oh, Buck, my make-up will ruin it." She chuckled, quickly whipping her own out of her clutch and dabbing her eyes. "I promised myself I wouldn't make a scene, and here I am doing just that."

Suddenly, a whistle sound nearby.

"They've started boarding; I should go." Grace said, stuffing her clutch in the top of her pack. Steve drew her in for one last hug, and helped her settle the large medical pack on her shoulders. She grabbed her suitcase and began to walk away, but stopped when she realized that she had somehow ended up with two handkerchiefs in her hand. Quickly, she dashed back to Bucky, handing his hankie back to him. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist. Her eyes flew up to his. For the first time in her life, Bucky had a look of uncertainty; she could see conflict in his gray eyes. Then, he pulled her in for a bone-crushing hug. Grace held onto the back of his jacket tightly, and she almost could have sworn she felt his lips press against the top of her head. Just as quickly as he had pulled her in, he released her, but not before slipping something metallic into her hand and wrapping her fingers around it.

"Good-bye, Babydoll," He murmured and turned to leave.

"See you soon, Sarge," she answered. He sent her a grin and a salute over his shoulder as he and Steve disappeared into the crowd.

It was not until she found her bunk and collapsed onto it that she discovered what it was that Bucky had given her. It was a silver locket, almost twice as big as her thumbnail. It was the perfect size; big enough to put pictures in, but not so big that it was gawdy. The front was engraved with a floral pattern of her favorite flowers, roses. Opening it she found a picture of Steve tucked in to one side, a picture of Bucky in his uniform tucked into the other side, and a note, which she unfolded and read it.

_Consider this your birthday and Christmas present from us fellas. We figured it was the_   
_perfect way of sending a bit of us with you. Can't have you_ _forgetting Steve and I, can we?_

_We love you, and are so proud of you we'd probably pop buttons off our shirts if we_   
_weren't so darn worried for you. Be careful and stay safe, Babydoll._ _I'll be there soon._

_Your "Sarge",_   
_Bucky Barnes_

Tears filled her eyes anew as she read the note. Raising the handkerchief she still held to wipe away her tears, she suddenly realized that it was not her handkerchief. Her's had a pink rose and her initials, in blue, embroidered on the corner and was edged with a scallop trim she had crocheted out of the same blue thread as she had used on her initials. The handkerchief in her hand had a simple line of charcoal gray around the edge and the initials J.B.B. in the corner. It was one of the handkerchiefs from a set of three that she had embroidered for Bucky three years before as a Christmas present. She raised it to her face; she could faintly smell his cologne on it. With nothing to do before dinner, Grace just lay there and fell asleep gazing at the little photographs of her boys and breathing the scent of Bucky's cologne on the handkerchief.

When they left the dock, Bucky dropped Steve off at his work, a small comic book company for whom Steve did some illustrations, and then headed to work himself. It was not until that evening, when he returned home that he found Grace's handkerchief in his inner jacket pocket. He could not help but smile slightly when he held it up to his nose and found that he could smell her floral perfume on it. He set it aside on his dresser, telling himself he'd return it to Steve next time he saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40's slang:
> 
> Pushover - A person easily convinced or seduced; easily swayed.


	8. Chapter VIII

_**August 7, 1942.** _

The next morning dawned bright and early for the nurses in Grace's cabin. Next door to them was a large cabin of soldiers, many of whom became sea-sick during the night. Luckily, Grace still felt no signs of the dreaded complaint. So, with little ado, she donned her field uniform, consisting of a khaki blouse, olive trousers, and combat boots, and grabbed several canteens, filling them will water since the biggest problem would be keeping the soldiers hydrated.

Grace and two of the other nurses worked tireless all day among the men. The rest came down to help in shifts, most of them did not stay long due to the stench. Most of the men were grateful for her help, but a few saw it only as an opportunity to "get friendly" with the nurses. Especially one young captain who was visiting an ill pal of his.

"Well, hi-de-ho*, little Missy. Aren't you a keen* little thing," he smirked.

Grace ignored him. "How are feeling, Sergeant?" she asked the sick soldier on the bunk.

"Terrible."

"Do you think you could get some water down? It's important to keep water in you."

"I can try," he answered weakly.

Grace looked over at the captain who was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Excuse me, I need to be where you are."

However, he did not move an inch, but continued to smirk at her. "Name's Downing,  _Captain_  John Downing. What about you, sugar?"

"You can address me as Nurse or Miss," she answered firmly. "Now, please move, Captain Downing."

"Now, why does a pretty little nurse like you have to be so unfriendly," he asked condescendlingly. "Didn't they teach you anything about bedside manners in training?"

"They did," she deadpanned. "But you're not sick, Captain." She marched around to the other side of the bunk. Kneeling beside it, she cradled the sick sergeant's head so he could take a few sips of water. She could tell he was younger than his obnoxious friend.

"Thank you, nurse," he murmured with a weak smile.

"Your welcome, Sergeant…."

"Zeke Downing." He answered and nodded to the captain. "We're cousins."

"Ah, I see," Grace gave the light brown-haired young man a small smile. "Well, you give a shout out if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Over the next three days, a storm came up, making the sickness in all of the passengers worse. Even Grace became quite nauseated, but she never threw up, so she pushed on both in the soldier's cabin and in her own to help those who had taken to bed as best she could. The storm raged for five more days, and Grace became known as "Nurse Rosie", though if that was for the rose-engraved locket she always wore or because they all thought that she was a nurse version of Rosie the Riveter, Grace did not know.

Finally, the seas evened out and last week or so was much smoother sailing, with only a few still complaining of seasickness. She gained two fast friends in the nurses who helped her most with the sick. Nancy, a practical Connecticut farm girl was tall, had chocolate brown hair, and honey colored eyes. Julie, a whimsical Southern belle originally from South Carolina but brought to New York City by her father's work, was also tall, and had auburn ringlets and bright green eyes.

Unfortunately, Captain Downing seemed to take great pleasure in aggravating the trio, and seemed to think that all women adored him. One day, at lunch in the hold of the vessel, and Nancy, Julie, and Grace were swapping hilarious childhood stories. The two taller girls were sitting across from Grace, leaving a space open beside her. Without asking permission, Captain Downing came over to sit down.

"Well , if this end of the table isn't full of the prettiest dames," He smirked as he sat down next to Grace. "May I inquire,  _Nurse Rosie_ , as to what is so amusing?"

"You may inquire," Grace answered loftily. "but we might choose to not answer."

He leaned close, too close, to Grace. "Aw, come on, Dollface," he pouted, "It can't be that much of a secret if you three at laughing so openly about it."

"I reckon we'll be the judge that, Capt'n Downin'," Julie answered in her thick Southern accent.

"Is that so?" He asked with smirk, leaning across the table toward the pretty the red-head.

"I agree," Nancy piped up. "and since I'm sure the vote is unanimous…" Here, she paused to glance at Julie and Grace for conformation, "the subject of our amusement will be for us to know, and for you to wonder about."

"Well, fine, if you're going to like that about it," he huffed and left.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Geez, you'd think the fella would take a hint."

Julie just shook her head and looked over at Grace. "I don't know what you did, chickadee, but it would seem you have an admirer. A stubborn one. Gotta give him an "A" for effort, I guess."

"Yes, "A" for supremely  _annoying_." Grace huffed. "I honestly don't know what his problem is."

"It's probably because you didn't swoon right at his feet," Nancy answered. "I suspect he's used to having whatever girl he wants."

"Well, this is one girl he can forget about." Grace firmly said.

"You said it, darlin'," Julie nodded. "Come on, we'd better head back to all those poor, lil' sick soldiers."

* * *

**_Present day, Avenger's Tower._ **

Tony Stark stood on the edge of the helipad on the top of the Avenger's Tower, awaiting the arrival of the quin-jet carrying, Steve, Barnes, Wilson, and the new frozen HYDRA captive.  _Why were all of the HYDRA captives frozen?_  Sam exited first carrying a handful of files. Barnes and Steve came down the ramp much slower, carefully maneuvering was looked like a small retro refrigerator down the ramp.

"What have we got, Wilson?" Tony called.

"Seems to be an earlier version of the cryo-chamber that HYDRA kept the Soldier in." he answered, waving the files in his hand, "This is everything we could find on the occupant and related experiments. They're in German and Italian, though." He handed the stack to Tony, who opened the top one, and found the name.

"Norma Grace Rogers, huh?" he commented as they headed inside with their precious cargo. "Any relation of yours, Spangles?" He really did not expect an answer one way or the other; however, Steve dropped a proverbial bomb on him.

"She's my younger sister."

Tony nearly dropped all the files he was carrying and whipped off his sunglasses to look Steve in the eye. "Are you serious?" he asked. "No jokes, Rogers?"

"No jokes, Stark," Steve answered. "Grace was my only living family, besides Bucky."

"Well, how the heck did she end up with HYDRA?"

"She was field nurse during the war," Steve answered. "Other than that, I have no idea. The last time l laid eyes on her, she was boarding a ship for the front."

"Well, I'll have JARVIS start on scanning and translating this stuff," Tony motioned to the files in his hand. "Everything is all set up and ready. Bruce is waiting for us in the lab," He glanced up at the ceiling of the elevator as they got in. "JARVIS, please let the Doc know we're on our way down; we've got a Miss Capsicle to thaw."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40s slang:
> 
> Hi-de-ho: Hello or Hi
> 
> Keen: pleasing or attractive


	9. Chapter IX

**_Italy, October 14, 1942_ **

Over the last two months, Grace's unit traveled to England, then across the channel to France, fought their way across Europe till they reached Italy. It had been a relatively quiet morning as Julie, Nancy, and Grace did their rounds among the wounded. Grace quickly earned a reputation among the soldiers as one of the most skilled, caring, but no-nonsense nurses. Flattery rolled right off her. Unfortunately, she and her trio were also known for their looks, so nearly every new, young soldier Grace came in contact with tried his luck with her.

"You look an angel this morning, Doll."

Grace rolled her eyes as she huffed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Now, that was a line* if I ever heard one," she answered, turning to the speaker, a young lieutenant with a hopeful face. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that it was wrong to lie?" she asked, hands on hips. A slight smile graced her lips to let him he had not really made her mad. He answered with a shrug and sheepish smile. Shaking her head, Grace turned back to the soldier whose bandages she was preparing to change.

"Told ya it was pointless," he said to the lieutenant. "Nurse Rogers is one tough cookie."

"You bet she is," Julie grinned as she moved to check the dressing on the lieutenant's bandaged leg.

"Well, I certainly didn't get chosen for this position by being a marshmallow," Grace added to the banter.

Suddenly, shouts and yelling shattered the peace of the morning. From the tree line came a line of soldiers bearing wounded on stretchers. Grace quickly finished tying off the bandage she was changing, and dashed to the first stretcher.

"Condition?"

"Bullet lodged in his arm and leg," one of the bearers snapped off.

"Let's get him inside." For the next several hours, the nurses and doctors of the 85th Field Hospital triaged the wounded operated to remove bullets and shrapnel from bodies, and stitched up wounds as best they could. They worked all morning and into afternoon, many nurses foregoing lunch. Grace lost count of the number of stitches, and bullet/shrapnel removals she did.

"How is it going over there, Rogers?" the head doctor, Dr. Holloway asked as he checked on Grace's progress with her last patient. He had a long gash in his side from flying grenade shrapnel.

"Just a few more stitches, Doctor, and Private Hughes here will be done," she answered. The injured man's twin brother, who had only received a shallow graze to the arm, stood opposite of Grace as he held his brother's hand.

"Hear that, Pete? She said it's almost over," he told him.

"Yeah, Paul, I heard," his brother groaned back. "I just didn't think it'd take this long to put a few stitches in. No offence, Miss,"

"None taken, Private," Grace answered, never taking her eyes off her task. "However, quick, sloppy stitches won't really help you heal like slow, careful ones will. Sloppy ones have tendency to break, then we have to redo them."

"A stitch in time saves nine, huh?"

Grace sent him a sympathetic smile. "Something like that. So your names are Peter and Paul?"

"Yep, Mama likes Bible names."

"Bible names are good ones; my older brother's name is Steven, though he goes by Steve." She carefully tied off the last stitch. "Alright, stitches are done. Now, we just need to bandage you up to keep out infections," She said, "Private, please pass me that box of gauze," Paul passed her the gauze and helped her wrap up his brother's torso. "Thanks for the help, Private Hughes," she said as she wiped sweat from her brow.

"No problem, Miss…Rogers, isn't it?" he smiled.

"Yes," she nodded. "Though the most of the other soldiers have other names for me."

"Oh?" Peter asked, wincing as he shifted on the table.

"Oh, I get "Doll", "Dollface", "Sugar", and all, but the most common is "Nurse Rosie." I think it has something to do with that 'Rosie the Riveter' poster."

"Or maybe it's that locket you're wearing," he pointed to the silver locket on her chest. Instinctively, she touched the pendant. "Fella who gave you that is a lucky fella indeed." Unsure of how to answer him, Grace mutely nodded.

"Is he ready to be moved?" Doctor Holloway suddenly returned to Grace's side.

"Yes, Doctor," She quickly answered. She quickly turned to Paul. "Help me get him on a stretcher?"

"Of course."

'You get his upper half, I get his feet," Grace ordered, wrapping her arms around Peter's shins. "On three. One…two…three!" They neatly heaved the patient onto the stretcher.

"I'll take it from here, Nurse Rogers," Doctor Holloway said, taking the foot of the stretcher.

"Thanks for the patch up, Nurse Rosie," Peter winked teasingly at her.

"Oh, get your brother outta here, Private, before I have to give him a talking to regarding his manners." she laughed and shook her head. "Wow, this has been one interesting birthday," she sighed.

"Mail call!" The shout of an Army messenger rang out in the main tent.

Grace dashed outside to call the others in. "Mail call, everyone!" Within two minutes, at least a dozen nurses surrounded the messenger, who began calling off names.

"Dr. Holloway."

"Here."

"Baker…Hollister…MacIntosh…Lorne…Smith…" As he called off the names, the letters were passed around to the proper recipient.

"Rogers." Grace surged forward to accept her letter. Her first letter at the front! She had sent a letter to Bucky and Steve when they stopped at England, but this was the first reply that she had received. Going outside, she sat on the grass, leaning against one of the tent poles. She glanced at the front. The neat, evenly spaced cursive showed that the letter was from Steve. Grinning she tore open the envelope.

_Dear Grace,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and sound. The apartment is so quiet without you singing to Mom's old records. Sometimes, I have to go and put a record on anyway; otherwise it feels like a tomb here._

_I hope you've had just enough action to keep you a little busy. Idleness is the devil's work, as Mom used to say. Bucky and I have been following the action in Italy closely in the papers. Bucky thinks that's where they'll send him._

_I hope this reaches you before your birthday, otherwise, what I'm going to say next will be late. Happy nineteenth birthday, Gracie! Gosh, it feels like I was about four and holding you for the first time just yesterday. I thought you looked so tiny, which I know is a lot coming from me. I had wanted and prayed for a little brother, but, now, I wouldn't trade my sister for all the brothers in the world. I hope your day is a swell one, even at the war front._

_I am a little worried about Bucky. He has been acting a little odd lately. He's been kind of quiet, and hasn't gone on as many dates as he used to. I've even caught him staring off into space a few times, which, as you know, isn't like Buck. Maybe it's the anticipation for his orders getting to him._

_We both miss you terribly and can't wait for the day you come home. I love you, Gracie._

_Your loving brother,  
Steve_

_P.S. In regards to the gift you mentioned in your letter, I don't know anything about the purchase of a locket, so that must have been all Bucky. I'm glad he did it, though. Maybe you are not as much of a little sister to him as you seem to think._

She absently fingered the locket she now always wore. At night, she would lay on her cot, studying the pictures until she fell asleep. Bucky had said it wasfrom both boys, but Steve said he had no part in buying it for her. Did Bucky just maybe see her as more than just his best pal's sister? Smiling softly, Grace opened the locket and let her eyes rove over the features of two people who were the most precious to her in all the world.

"Who's the letter from?" Nancy suddenly came over and sat down on Grace's left.

"My brother, Steve."

The one who's the artist?" Julie asked, plopping herself down on Grace's right.

"Well, part-time comic book illustrator, but yes."

"She's only got one brother, silly," Nancy chuckled. "I have four brothers."

"Four!" Julie gasped.

"Yep, Charlie and Will are in the Army, in Germany, Jim's a pilot in the Pacific, and Tommy won't be eighteen for another year and a half." Nancy counted off. "He'll sign up as soon as he's old enough, though." She pulled a photograph out of her uniform pocket. All of them had the same wavy dark hair. "Here's the pack of us, two years ago. Will has since married, and Charlie left a fiancée back home."

"Jim going steady with anyone?" Julie asked, trying to act nonchalant as she eyed the picture.

"Not that I know of," Nancy giggled. "Any reason?"

"No," Julie shrugged, "He's…not bad lookin'."

Nancy and Grace laughed at shook their heads at Julie's sheepish look.

"Let's see a picture of your brother, Grace," Julie said, trying to change the subject. "I'll be he's not bad either, if you two look anything alike."

"His eyes are more of a baby blue, but other than that, we do look a lot alike," Grace nodded, opening her locket and holding it so that her thumb covered Bucky's picture.

"He looks kinda skinny," Julie commented. "but he's kinda cute."

"He is skinny," Grace nodded with a chuckle. "and about three inches taller than me. But he's got the biggest heart of gold in world." She smiled fondly at the face grinning out of the little photograph. "The girl who can see really past the outside and gets him will have an endlessly devoted husband till her dying day."

"Sounds like a great fella, sweetheart," Nancy smiled.

"Best brother a girl could ever ask for." Grace answered. "No offence, Nan."

"I never had any brothers; just two very annoying older sisters." Julie sighed. "Who's the other picture?"

Grace gulped. "Other picture?" she asked innocently, snapping the locket shut.

"Yes, the one on the other side," Nancy said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ooo, Nan, she blushing!" Julie cooed. "Who's lucky fella you're carrying a torch* for?"

"Nobody," Grace shook her head.

"She's definitely stuck on* him, if she won't show us his picture," Nancy coaxed.

"Definitely," Julie nodded conspiratorially.

Grace's blushed deepen, and she opened the locket again with a huff. "He's just a…family friend,"

"Sugar, people don't blush over 'family friends'." Julie replied, looking down at the locket. "Wow, he's keen!" In the photograph, Bucky was wearing his uniform, but he had the hat on at an angle, and he wore his signature smirk. "What's his name?"

Grace could not help but smile a little. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but he goes by Bucky."

Nancy shook her head. "You are seriously telling me that you are 'just family friends" with  _him_?"

"He's been Steve's best friends since before I can remember," Grace defended. "Besides, he's nearly five years older, and he doesn't date girls my age."

"Oh, so you  _do_  want to be more than friends," Nancy answered slyly.

Grace lowered her eyes shyly and murmured a "yes."

"Does he know how you feel?" Julie asked.

"No," Grace sighed. "and if you ever manage to meet him, don't tell him."

"Why ever not?" Julie gasped.

"Because I don't want him to feel obligated to take me out, or to humor me," Grace answered honestly. "If there is going to be anything between us, I want him to truly want it too."

"Well, he's a bigger fat-head* than Downing if he doesn't want you, chickadee," Julie smiled and put her arm around Grace.

"I second that," Nancy smiled. "But he must be fairly smart; he did make sergeant, after all."

"Rank has nothing to do with it," Grace argued. "Look at  _Captain_  Downing."

"She, unfortunately, has a point." Julie sighed. "Hopefully your sergeant has more brains than our  _beloved_ Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40's slang:
> 
> Line: insincere flattery
> 
> Carry a torch: to have a crush on someone
> 
> Stuck on: having a crush on; like "carry a torch"
> 
> Fat-head: stupid or foolish person


	10. Chapter X

**_Present day, Avenger's Tower._ **

Bucky sat on the sofa in "common room" of the Tower. In his hands, he held a pre-war photograph of Steve and his sister, Grace, that Steve had recovered after his thawing. Even though he had yet to see a color picture of her, he somehow knew Grace's eyes were blue. Sky blue instead of the baby blue of her brothers. How did he know that? Steve said that he had known Grace before, and the moment he saw the photograph in Wilson's hand, his heart leaped in his chest. She was important to him. Special. Precious. But why? And in what way?

Bucky sighed. He could somehow conjure up a picture of her in his mind, clear enough to know for a fact it was her. Smiling blue eyes, shining golden curls….and dancing. He immediately associated dancing with her. Maybe they had gone dancing together. And…and…roses. Roses somehow went with this mysterious blond beauty.

Yes, she was beautiful. She was small, tiny even, very thin, and looked younger than the nineteen years old Steve claimed she was, but she was beautiful. Only a complete idiot would say otherwise. She had an air of determination about her, just like her brother. Her smile, heavens, her smile seemed to light up the room, and her eyes shone with happiness, even in the black-and-white photograph.

 _Please let her wake up and remember me,_ Bucky thought.  _I need to know who she is._

* * *

**_October 20, 1942, World's Fair in New York City._ **

"Don't do anything stupid till I get back, Punk." Bucky hugged Steve.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." Steve chuckled. "Give my love to Grace if you see her,

"Will do," Bucky nodded and turned to head back to his date.

"And don't win the war till I get there," Steve added. Bucky grinned and dashed back to the girls.

* * *

**_One month later._ **

It was happening tomorrow. Steve was becoming the first super soldier  _tomorrow_. Steve so wanted to write to Grace, telling her what was happening, but he had been forbidden. Dr. Erskine came in for a bit of pep talk, and when Steve lay down to sleep that night, he pulled out the small frame he kept under his pillow. It was Grace's senior picture. He fell asleep studying his beloved sister's smiling face.

The next day, as the chamber closed up around him, and Dr. Erskine asked he was alright, he could practically hear Grace's voice in his head.  _You're going do just fine, Stevie._

"Guess it's too late to run to the bathroom, huh?" He answered Dr. Erskine.

The thought of Grace and finally be able to look after her and protect her was only thing that got Steve through the pain of the procedure.  _Mom, Dad, Grace, I'm finally gonna make you proud._

* * *

 ** _Frontlines of Italy_**.

Bucky crouched down in his foxhole with a Brit known as "Dum Dum" Dugan as another wave of machine gun fire blazed through the woods. It was getting late; he could see the moon rising. Over the next hour, the fighting died down, a seemingly unspoken agreement to cease for the night falling over everything. Bucky and Dugan, however, knew better than to try and rise from their foxhole.

"I'll take first watch, Barnes," Dugan said. "Go on and sleep."

Bucky tucked himself into a corner and settled against the earthen wall with his gun clutched to his chest. Slowly, he reached into the front pocket of his uniform and pulled out a piece of white fabric that was edged in blue. He unfolded it and gently ran his finger over the embroidery in one corner, N.G.R. with a rose. Protected in the white folds he kept two photographs. One of his family, and one of Steve and Grace. He took them out and smiled softly. They were all of the reasons that he was in a damp foxhole in Italy with no promise of ever returning to them.

"Family?" Dugan nodded to the pictures in Bucky's hand.

"Yeah, guess you could say that," Bucky answered. "This one is my parents and little sister, Rebecca. She's a junior in high school now." He handed Dugan the first picture.

"Nice family, Barnes. Bet she's already broken a few hearts." Dugan smiled.

"I dare she has, since I've been gone." Barnes grinned widely and nodded.

"The other one your girl?"

"Naw," Bucky shook his head, but he felt his cheeks heat up ever so slightly. "My best friend and his little sister." He flipped over the photograph for Dugan to see.

"Hey, let me see that," Dugan reached for the picture. Bucky handed it to him, trying to hide his reluctance. "Now, there's a doll, Barnes. She about your sister's age?"

"No, Grace turned nineteen about a month ago," Bucky answered. "She's with the 85th Field Hospital. Been somewhere here in Italy since August or September."

"Is she going steady with anyone?" Dugan asked. "If not, I call dibs…unless you've already got sights on her, Sharpshooter…."

"No, you can try your luck, Dum Dum," Bucky chuckled, but felt a little twinge in his chest. Why did he always feel like that when another soldier talked about Grace like that? She was not his girl; why should he feel….well… _jealous….._ at the thought of her with another fella?

"You sure?" Dugan asked slyly. "That hankie doesn't look like it belongs to you." He handed the photograph back and nodded toward the white fabric in his hand.

"No, you got me," Bucky sighed. "It's Grace's."

"I sense a story here."

"Not really." Bucky shrugged. "When Steve and I were seeing her off back in August, some tears were shed and our handkerchiefs got mixed up in the rush of things. I kept forgetting to get it back to Steve, then it somehow ended up in the pocket of one my uniforms, I figured I can give it back if we ever come across her unit."

"That's your story, is it?" The Englishman chuckled. Dugan might have been nicknamed "Dum Dum", but he was not stupid. Or blind. He saw the faint blush on the younger man's face when he asked about the picture and the girl in it.

"Yep, and I'm sticking to it." Bucky nodded.

"If you say so, Barnes."

Bucky tucked the pictures and handkerchief away in his uniform pocket and settled down in his corner of the foxhole. He fell asleep cradling his weapon to his chest, but his hand was pressed over the front pocket where the photographs and crochet-trimmed handkerchief resided.

* * *

 ** _Three months later, Captain America Tour_**.

Steve sighed heavily as he peeled of the tight "Captain America" costume he wore for his war bonds tour. Literally, the only thing making the whole rigmarole worthwhile even a little bit was seeing the kids happy and excited. If it were not for that tiny detail, Steve would have quit the whole humiliating thing after the first show, and told them to find another monkey to wear the suit-costume-thing. He had not gone through the agony of become a super soldier to be a stage attraction, but, three months later, there he stood, all six-foot-three-and-a-half-inches of him, acting like an idiot on a stage for hundreds to see, wearing a ridiculously tight, comic book hero-like outfit.

_I'm sorry, Grace. You and Bucky aren't risking your lives over there so that I can play around on a stage. I've failed again. I'm sorry._


	11. Chapter XI

 

**_Frontlines of Italy, November 1942.._ **

"What's cookin', good lookin'?"

Grace rolled her eyes. Two days ago, the shrapnel of a German mortar round brought Captain John Downing back into Grace's  _delighted_  company. "Nothing for you, Captain," she answered. "Just a change of bandages." She moved to take the bandaged off his shoulder, but he grabbed her arm with his good hand and pulled right down into his lap. "Let me go!"

Private Peter Hughes, lying just across the aisle, saw it all. "Let Nurse Rogers go, you idiot!" he called.

"Oh, Nurse  _Rogers_  is it?" Downing smirked. "Is there a first name that goes with that?"

"Not one that you get to know," she grunted, trying to break free of his grip. Out of desperation, she reached over and pressed on his shrapnel wound, causing him to let out a cry of pain. Grace immediately jumped and away from him.

Just then, Doctor Holloway and Nancy came in. "What going on in here?" He asked sternly.

"Nurse Rogers just isn't exactly gentle in unwrapping wounds, sir," the captain groaned. Grace stared down at him, livid at his out-right lie. However, before she could say a word, the other men in the tent spoke up for her.

"He's full of it, Doc! Don't listen to 'im!"

"He's lying, Doctor Holloway!"

"He yanked her right into his lap," Hughes cried. "Pretty as ya please; no asking permission or anything."

"Relax, men, I believe you," Doctor Holloway soothed. "You, Captain Downing, came with a bit a warning label that you'd go for the nurses. Rogers, what do you have to say in this matter?"

"It's as they said, Doctor," she answered evenly. "I was trying to change his bandage, and he pulled me right down."

"Hmm, getting bolder, Captain?" Nancy sent an unamused glare his way. "Verbal harassment not enough for you?"

"You know him?" Doctor Holloway asked.

"Oh yes, Captain Doll-Dizzy* here made himself known on the voyage across the Atlantic," Nancy answered. "We made our disinterest known then as well."

"I see." Holloway mused. "Well, our only course of action is to move Captain Downing to another tent. I need Nurse Rogers here close to the operating tables," he said. "I send a couple of fellas in here shortly to move him." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh Rogers, don't forget to come by my desk and fill out the report on this. Messing with women is pretty low in my books, and I want to make sure this goes on his record."

"Yes, sir, as soon as I am finished in here."

Doctor Holloway nodded and left. Captain Downing shot Grace a dark look. "Great, now I'll have a record, all because Nurse Fuddy-Duddy* squealed."

"Well, you shouldn't be trying to take advantage of a dame who has made herself plain." Hughes retorted from across the tent.

"Shut up, Private," Downing retorted.

"He has a valid point," Nancy commented as she came over to change out his bandages for Grace, since the smaller nurse had moved on to the next bed.

Twenty minutes later, two runners came in and took Downing to another tent. By that time, Grace had reached Peter Hughes.

"Thanks for speaking up for me," she smiled softly. "All of you," she added a little louder.

"It's our job to keep you ladies safe from the likes of him," one man answered firmly.

"You're the best nurse we've had; we gotta look out for ya," another man, who looked about ten years Grace's senior, added.

"Besides," Hughes said softly. "there's some lucky fella out there who wouldn't appreciate his girl being treated that way." He pointed to Grace's locket. "It's an unwritten code of brotherhood; we look after each other's folks when we can."

Grace blushed profusely. "Thanks, gentlemen. It's good to know that not all G.I. Joes are jerks."

* * *

**_Two weeks later._ **

Grace received her second letter at the front. This one was from Bucky.

> _Hey there, Babydoll._
> 
> _It's me, Bucky. I finally received my orders today; I leave first thing in the morning. Too bad you are not here to fix breakfast again. Hot breakfast on the day he leaves home can go a long way in keeping a fella's spirit up, and you make it better than anyone else I know._
> 
> _I'm planning to take Steve and a couple of girls to this "World's Fair" they have here in New York. Should be fun, but it would be even better if you were here to see the sights with us. We might go dancing afterwards._
> 
> _Who knows, maybe we'll be able to show those Nazis and Italians how to cut a rug properly. My orders are for Italy, you see, so we might just bump into each other in this great, big war._
> 
> _Well, I've got to go find Stevie and get him ready for the Fair. I'm sure he sends his love and all that. I'll be seeing you soon, Babydoll._
> 
> _Your "Sarge",  
>  Bucky Barnes_
> 
> _P.S. I guess I ought to confess—I bought you the locket, Grace. I hope you don't mind; I just could not bear the thought of you all by yourself over there. I figured it would be a way for you to keep us fellas nearby. ~~I th~~  We think of you often and cannot wait to see you home safe._

Refolding the letter, Grace let out a sigh and held the tan paper to her chest. Bucky was coming to Italy! However, she could not help but notice the cross-out in the post-script. Had he unconsciously penned that  _he_ thought of her? But then, why did he cross it out and change it to "We"? Grace shook her head to clear it.  _I'm over-reacting_. _Just focus on the fact that you might get to see him again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40's slang:
> 
> Applesause: used in the place of cuss or swear words 
> 
> Dolly-dizzy: girl crazy
> 
> Fuddy-duddy: old-fashioned


	12. Chapter XII

**_January 1943, Frontlines of Italy._ **

"We have incoming wounded, folks," a runner dashed into the operation tent of the 85th Field Hospital. The hospital became a hive of busy nurse and doctors preparing to receive the wounded. Grace was soon pulled to help with the worst bullet and shrapnel wounds since she did well with them. All of the men and wounds became blurs as she tirelessly worked through the day. Every time they thought they had nearly finished their tasks, another wave a wounded came in.

"When you're done there, Rogers, I need you to take of the man on table three," Dr. Holloway called to Grace over the chaos of the operation room. "He's got a nasty piece of shrapnel in his knee."

"Got it, Doctor!" Grace called back. "Julie! Stitch this fella up for me? I gotta see the man on three."

"You got it, chickadee!" Julie quickly took Grace's place.

"Don't worry, Corporal, Julie is the one of the best." Grace soothed the soldier she had removed two bullets from.

"Second only to you or Nan, Sugar," Julie replied as she prepared her needle.

Grace quickly moved to her new patient's side. A large wad of blood-soaked gauze covering his right knee. Grace quickly washed her hands, grabbed a clean set of hemostats and forceps and plenty of gauze dressings, and approached her patient.

"It's alright, Sergeant, you're in good hands now," A nurse that was trying to keep pressure on his wound said. "Grace is one of the best with shrapnel wounds."

"No worries, Sergeant, I've got you, alright? I'm just gonna take a peek under here…." Grace, eyes trained on the task at hand, gently removed the bloody gauze to reveal a jagged piece of metal nearly as long as her thumb sticking out just above and to the outer side of his knee. "Wow," she gasped. "Here's to hoping this thing didn't severe too many tendons or ligaments." After carefully examining it to figured out the best way to pull it out, she leaned over the soldier. "Okay, Sergeant, on three, I'm gonna pull—"

"Babydoll?" the soldier weakly asked.

Grace, who had not really been paying attention to her patient's face, gasped as she combed back the dark hair.

"Bucky?"

"Alive and in person." A small smirk graced his slips before turning into a grimace of pain.

Before she could stop herself, Grace pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I've got you, Sarge; I'm gonna take care of you," she whispered.

"I know you will. You're the best nurse in the Army," he answered weakly.

"On three, Buck." Forgoing her hemostats, Grace gripped the metal carefully. "Be ready to apply pressure," she told the other nurse. "One…two…three!" Grace quickly eased the piece out as Bucky tried to hold back a scream of pain. "It's alright, Bucky, it's out. It's gone." She quickly soothed as she grabbed more gauze to stem the bleeding in his wound.

"Da—"

"Language, Buck," Grace said automatically before he could finish the word. "There are ladies present."

Bucky grinned half-heartedly and tried again. "Geezy-pete…..you have  _got_  ….to learn..…to pull your punches…Babydoll,"

"Yeah, well, growing with you and Stevie wasn't very conducive to being soft and easy."

"Nope…probably not," he agreed through gritted teeth.

"You know each other?" the other nurse finally asked.

Grace never took her eyes off her task. "Since the day I was born."

"Well, it's nice to see childhood sweethearts reunited, but I'd better go help one of the others, unless you still need me, Grace?"

"No, you go ahead," Grace answered, not noticing the comment the other nurse made.

"Since when….were we childhood…..sweethearts?" Bucky asked between gasps of pain.

"Hmm?"

"That….nurse….she called us…. _gasp…._ childhood sweethearts…."

"I'll straighten her out later," Grace said dismissively. "They are always making assumptions about everyone around here." She carefully lifted the gauze to check on the bleeding. "Okay, I think I'm gonna have to bandage this and stitch it up once the bleeding has stopped." She turned to a nearby table and grabbed several gauze pads and a roll of bandage material. "Did you know that if you carry the picture of a fella that isn't your brother with you in a locket, you  _must_  be carrying a torch for him?" she asked as if they were back at the apartment in Brooklyn holding a normal conversation while she began winding the bandage around his knee.

"Oh really?" Bucky answered.

"Yes, Nancy and Julie are quite convinced."

"And I…take it…this Nancy…and Julie are….friends…of yours?"

"Yeah, meet them on the ship over the Atlantic."

"They….sound….just peachy…."

"They actually have been very good friends to me, Sarge."

"You know...I like it….when….you call me…that."

Grace paused in her task. "Oh?"

"Yeah..."

Grace risked a glance up at Bucky's face. He was watching her work with a soft smile on his face that made her heart race and melt at the same time. His eyes shone with-was it pride?-and something else Grace could not name. Without a word, she returned to her task, hoping he did not notice her hands tremble slightly.

"I've thought about you nearly every day since you left," he said softly.

Grace gulped. God bless his soul, he had no idea what he was doing her. Grace was sure he was trying to come across as a brother worried for his sister, but her traitorous heart wanted him to mean it differently, and she knew it would never happen.

"Oh? I've thought about you boys too…" she answered noncommittally, tying off the bandage. Motioning to a pair of runners, she ordered them to take Bucky to the nearest observation tent.

"Wait, Grace, I—"

"I have duties to tend to, Bucky," Grace answered without looking at him, sounding harsher than she meant to. "I'll try to come see you later."

* * *

**_April 1943, Bar near SSR Headquarters._ **

"That punk from Brooklyn too dumb enough to walk away from a fight, I'm following him." Bucky grinned at his best friend. Steve had changed a lot since the last time Bucky had seen him. He was taller, taller than Bucky now. And a lot stronger.

Steve shook his head at Bucky with a grin.

"Hey, did you see Grace on that 'Europe tour' of yours?' Bucky asked.

"Nope," Steve answered. "Have you?" he quickly asked.

Bucky nodded with a broad grin. "Back in January. Took a bit of shrapnel just above the knee and was taken to, you guessed it, the 85th Field Hospital."

"Was she alright?" Steve asked.

"I tell you I took shrapnel to the knee and you ask if  _she's_  alright? Thanks for the concern, pal," Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, by the way. Grace fixed me right up. Don't even a have limp or anything so far."

"Did she now?" Steve look surprised.

"Yep. Apparently, she was 'one of the best with shrapnel wounds'."

Steve grinned proudly, and Bucky could have sworn he sat up a little straighter. "Way ta go, Gracie."

"Yeah," Bucky grinned back. "You should have seen her, Steve. She was so serious about what she was doing; she didn't even recognize me at first." His grin turned into a softer smile. "She was so gentle and soothing though, even when she thought me a stranger."

Steve looked over at him curiously, "Buck?" You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky shook his head and took another sip from his glass. "It's just….."

"Just what?"

"Grace…she….I…" Bucky stammered, then shook his head with a chuckle. "Shucks, I had it all planned out, and now I can't get the words out."

Steve looked his friend over. Bucky stared down at his glass as he drew invisible circles with it on the bartop—a sure sign that he was nervous.

Suddenly, Steve grinned widely. "Do you like her, Buck? 'Cuz, I won't be mad if you do."

Bucky chuckled nervously again. "Sorta," he answered then he sobered a bit. "I've never felt like this about any other girl before." He raised serious eyes to Steve. "I—I think I love her."

Steve's smile widened.

"What?" Bucky asked. "You think this is funny, Punk? You don't think I know how weird this could be, falling for your best pal's little sister?"

"No," Steve chuckled. "I think it's great, Bucky." Steve slung and arm around Bucky's shoulder. "But does Grace know?"

* * *

**_November 1943, Sicily._ **

For the last year, Grace had worked with the 85th Field Hospital, but now she was being transferred to a unit in eastern Italy. First, she had been sent to Sicily for a few weeks, but now, she and twelve other nurses and corpsmen were being flown to Bari.

"Are you sure we sure we should be heading out?" a corpsmen asked the pilot as they loaded the C-54 with medical supplies. He pointed toward a smudge of dark clouds on the distant horizon, in the direction that they were headed.

"We've checked all of the weather reports. Bari is in desperate need of medic and supplies, and this will probably be one of your last chances to get out this winter," the pilot answered. "We're flying out today."

Five hours later, the C-54 was lost in a snow storm. They had lost radio contact with their base an hour and twenty minutes ago; forty five minutes ago, the pilot declared their compass useless. He had no idea where they were.

In the transport hold, the corpsmen and the nurses had an alternated seating arrangement to keep the weight evenly distributed. Grace, who sat one seat away from the "front", Grace desperately clutched her locket to her chest in one hand, her other rested over her front pocket where Bucky's handkerchief resided.

"From your sweetheart?" the young corpsman on Grace's right asked of the roar of the plane and wind.

"Sort of," she shouted back.

"'Sort of'?"

"It's complicated."

"Fair enough," he answered. He took a picture of a pretty brunette from his uniform pocket. "My girl, Barbara, Gonna ask her to marry me when this is all over."

"Congratulations early, then."

"Thanks," He grinned. "I'm a lucky fella. Hope you get some luck with your… _complicated_ fella."

"Thanks," Just then the pilot swore loudly, and they felt the plane shudder for the umpteenth time.

"What's going on?" the corpsman shouted up to the pilot.

"Wings are icing over," the pilot answered. "I'm gonna have to try to land blind. Pray there's something to break the fall, folks." They all felt the plane begin to nose downward. "Hang on!" the pilot shouted.

The corpsman beside Grace quickly pushed her down into a fetal-like position and curled himself over her, forming a barrier between herself and the front of the plane. Suddenly the world jerked and tumbled around, and was filled with the ear-piercing screeches of metal twisting and cries of the passengers.

* * *

**_Three weeks later, Mountains of Italy._ **

Bucky paced restless as they waited for conformation regarding the train they were raiding. His knee was aching a bit, but he did his best to not show it.

Steve glanced at Bucky. For the last few days, Bucky had been trying to hide a faint limp. The other Commandos probably couldn't even tell, but Steve knew Bucky well and could see the subtle difference in his gait. However, it had not slowed Bucky down at all, so Steve said nothing so far.

"It's him! Zola's on the train!"

"Let's do this, fellas," Steve said, walking to the zip lines that would take them from their ledge onto the train. Bucky looked over the edge.

"Remember that time that I took you to Coney Island and made you ride the Cyclone?"

"And I threw up?"

"This is payback, isn't it?"

"Now why would I do that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the readers who gave kudos and bookmarked my story! You're the bee's knees! -Alessandra, Daughter of Apollo


	13. Chapter XIII

**_Present day, lab of Avenger Tower._ **

Steve stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched through a glass wall as Tony and Bruce worked to thaw Grace without killing her. They had been working for the last eight hours, following much of the procedures that SHIELD had used to wake Steve up, but they had almost lost her twice. However, she came back each time; Steve could not help but feel a twinge of pride. Grace had always been strong; a fighter, deep down. That was probably why she did so well at the front as a nurse. Now, he hoped they could get her fight whatever it was that HYRDA did to her.

"Any progress?" Bucky suddenly asked from beside Steve. Steve started slightly; Bucky tread very quietly now, and easily sneaked up on people, whether he meant to or not. He had been in and out of the lab level periodically over the last eight hours.

"A bit; all of the frost is gone," Steve answered. He swallowed thickly and ducked his head slightly. "We almost lost her again."

Bucky quickly turned to Steve. "Is she okay now?"

"Stark and Bruce seem to think so. There's some fight left in her, I guess."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, then spoke thoughtfully. "Then...maybe it's good you never taught her to pull her punches..."

Steve looked up at Bucky and smiled. "Yeah, maybe it is."

"I told you to do that once, didn't I?" Bucky asked. "To teach her to pull her punches..."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "On my last birthday before she shipped out to Italy."

"She was insisting you dance with her.....the....it was the Charleston..."

"Yeah, it was." Steve's grinned widened just as the sliding doors to the lab opened.

"What's that about Charleston?" Tony asked as he strode to a work table. "I didn't think you Yankee old-timers made as far south as the Carolinas,"

"We didn't," Bucky answered.

"He was referring to the dance, Stark." Steve clarified and immediately regretted it

"The Charleston? As in the 1920's Charleston; _that_  Charleston?" Tony looked flabbergasted. "You—Mister Star-Spangled Man with a Plan—danced the  _Charleston?"_

"Only because Grace begged me to." Steve blushed. "and I was terrible."

"You didn't step on her toes," Bucky commented. "I remember that, and when you got tired, I took up your place."

"Not stepping on toes, I guess that was an accomplishment?" Bruce asked absently as he looked over the charts in his hand.

"For me, it was a major one," Steve answered.

Tony pointed to Bucky. "Next time, you are getting it on tape for me, Frosty. It'll get, like, a billion follows in about three seconds on Facebook or Twitter." Bucky just rolled his eyes, not fully understanding what Tony was talking about, but knowing enough to assume it would be done to annoy or embarrass Steve.

"How's she doing, Bruce?" Steve finally asked anxiously.

"Well, she's much more stable," Bruce answered, flipping through the charts. "she's not exactly out of the woods yet, but it should be much smoother sailing from here on out, Cap."

"Thank heavens," Steve sighed in relief as he plopped into a chair.

"How much longer should it take?" Bucky asked.

"Impatient to see Miss Capsicle again, Jack Frost?"

"I just don't think it took them eight hours to thaw me, so....."

"So, what's taking so long? See, we actually..."

Bruce cut Tony off before he launched into a long and probably very technical explanation that would go right over the soldier's head, "We're being very careful because we don't want to hurt her. We really don't know much about this stuff."

Bucky nodded in acceptance. He momentarily placed a hand on Steve shoulder and left. He felt too restless to stay in one place for very long. He was...conflicted. Part of him was extremely nervous and excited to see Grace and was worried about this whole thawing thing. The other part of him, the part of him he had come to connect with the Winter Soldier, was...well...indifferent. He went back up to common room. He picked the pre-war photograph of Steve, Grace, and himself up from the coffee table. He traced Grace's features with a finger of his flesh hand. She was special, so special to him....he just could not remember why. It felt like the answer was just out of reach; just out of sight. Bucky sighed. He let the picture fall back to the tabletop and buried his face in his hands, concentrating on what little he could remember of Grace. Old-timey music, sweet laughter, blue eyes, golden curls, and a few broken phrases were all he could conjure up.

_"_ _Wait up for me, fellas!...Whatcha doin', Bucky?.....Teach me to dance, Buck....You make the cut?.....I've got you, Sarge, I'm gonna take care of you...."_

Bucky heaved another sigh and scrubbed his face with his hand. Maybe, if they were lucky, Grace would remember what she was to him.

* * *

**_Three hours later._ **

Steve and Bucky stood in the kitchen on the common room floor, making dinner as a distraction. Steve was stirring tomato sauce in a pan while he gave Bucky instructions on cooking spaghetti noodles.

"I don't remember this dish," Bucky said.

"We never had it before the war. We had in Italy, at one of the pubs....one that hadn't been blown up." Steve answered wryly.

"So how did you know how to make it?"

"I asked the pub owner's wife for the recipe for Grace," Steve answered. "Figured she'd really like it. I found it among the pictures that I asked to have back from the Smithsonian."

"Hmm."

They continued in silence except for when one of them read directions aloud from the faded recipe card.

"Mmm, something smells wonderful." The soldiers turned to see Pepper come into the kitchen. "Spaghetti?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve answered with a small smile. "We need a distraction from....."

"Everything going on." Pepper finished with an understanding smile. "And it's just Pepper, Steve. Would you boys be opposed to me throwing together a salad to go with your masterpiece?"

Bucky shrugged and Steve nodded. "Sure, I think Nat got lettuce last time we went to the store."

Pepper shed her suit jacket and heels and rummaged through the refrigerator for the ingredients she was looking for. "Let's see...carrots....celery....cucumber...tomatoes..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky watched Pepper lug her vegetables onto the island in the center of the kitchen. "Would it too much of a strain on you to watch both the sauce and noodles?" Bucky asked, nodding in Pepper's direction. Steve grinned. He could tell Bucky was getting better. Every once in a while Bucky would say something that sounded completely and totally...well...Bucky.

"Yeah, I think I can handle this."

"You sure, Punk? 'Cuz if not—"

"I'll be fine," Steve answered. "Jerk."

"Boys! Don't make me come over there and separate you," Pepper said as she began chopping carrots.

"Yes, Mother dear. She sounds like Grace," Bucky answered without thinking. He suddenly stopped. "Did Grace say things like that? She did, didn't she?" He looked at Steve.

"Yeah," Steve answered. "Yeah, she did."

"See, you're remembering things," Pepper smiled. "but that wasn't sarcasm I heard just before the Grace comment, was it.?"

Bucky turned to her with a completely serious face. "No, ma'am. Not at all."

"Uh-huh. Well, for that you can help me chop. Get yourself over here and put some of your knife skills to good use," Pepper mock-scolded. "You're lucky I don't give you KP later too."

"Yes, ma'am." Bucky joined her at the island without complaint and began chopping celery. A few minutes later, Clint came it.

"Smells amazing in here, gents...and lady," Clint said. "Something that smells this good deserves a proper dinner setting. I'll set the table." He said firmly, grabbing plates and utensils. A few minutes later, he came back for glasses and napkins. "You know, I think we still have time for garlic bread, folks," He scrounged in the pantry and came out with bread and garlic. He quickly buttered thick slices of the Italian loaf and sprinkled them liberally with garlic, before popping the tray into the oven.

Nat strolled in just as Clint was taking his garlic bread from the oven. "What's for dinner boys? I'm just grabbing a plate and heading back to my room tonight."

"Oh no, you're not," Clint firmly answered. "Do you smell that?"

Nate obliged him and took a deep sniff. "Spaghetti sauce and garlic bread," she deadpanned.

"And it smells amazing," Clint nodded. "Cap and Barnes slaved over that stove for hours, I'm sure, for it to smell that good—"

"Well, actually, it was just—"

Clint continued to talk over Steve's protest. "So we are having a team dinner; everyone at the dining table and everything, got it?"

Nat rolled her eyes.

"It's ready yet, Cap?"

"It's ready when everyone else is," Steve answered. "JARVIS, could you please tell Tony and Bruce?"

"Yes, Captain. They will up shortly."

Down in the labs, Tony and Bruce sighed in relief. Miss Rogers was completely thawed and still alive, meaning Steve would not kill them.

"How's her vitals, Doc?" Tony asked, clearing away some of the thawing equipment.

"Well, she still stable. She'll probably sleep for a while yet, though, and I want to keep at least one heat lamp on her."

"You got it, Brucie,"

"Mr. Stark, Doctor Banner, your presence is requested by the others for dinner,"

"We'll come up for a plate in a little while, buddy."

"Agent Barton is insistent that this is a team dinner, sir," JARVIS answered.

"Tonight? Seriously?" Tony sighed. "Doesn't he know we have a Miss Capsicle to fret over?"

"Yes, sir. I believe a break from the stress was his thinking."

"There's not really anything else we can do now, Tony," Bruce piped up. "It's all up to her at this point."

"Okay, okay. Team dinner it is." Tony sighed again. After making sure their charge was well covered in blankets and the heat lamp was at the right setting, they headed up to the common floor.

They entered the dining room to find Steve dishing up noodles and spaghetti sauce and Pepper passing around and a huge bowl of salad. "Hey, that smells edible, who did you order from?"

Steve glanced up at him. "Mrs. Mancini," he answered as he passed another plate of pasta to Nat.

"Mrs. Mancini's?" Tony asked. "Not familiar with that one. Is it a new one, JARVIS?"

"No, sir, there is no restaurant in New York with that name."

"Then how did this get here?"

Bucky leaned over to Steve and whispered. "He does know that his kitchen works, right? That people  _cook_ , right?"

"I honestly don't know, Buck," Steve grinned back.

"What's that, old-timers?"

"Bucky was just wondering if you knew that your kitchen works," Steve answered innocently. "May I have a piece of Clint's garlic bread?"

"My kitchen? This came out of my kitchen?" Tony glance down at the plate that had been placed in front of him. "Smells too good for something out of a box."

Bucky looked confused. "It didn't come out of a box, Stark, Steve used your kitchen; he  _cooked_  it."

"Cap did what?"

"Tony, dear, what Bucky is trying to say is that this all homemade," Pepper finally came to rescue.

"But  _Spangles_  cooked it?"

"Yes," she answered. "Bucky too."

"I did the garlic bread," Clint piped up.

"Since when did big, bad, super-soldiers  _cook?_ "

"Since Grace taught me, Tony," Steve answered. "It was one thing that rarely aggravated my allergies or asthma."

"Then who's Mrs. Mancini?" Tony asked. "Is that some kind of 40's reference or something?"

Bucky rolled his eyes as he swallowed his spaghetti. "No, she's the lady Steve got the recipe from,"

"Her husband owned a pub and all of the Commandos ate there one night when we were in Italy," Steve added. "It was first time Bucky and I had eaten spaghetti. I asked Mrs. Mancini for the recipe to take home to Grace. She loved to try new recipes."

"So this is a 1940-something recipe?" Tony looked down dubiously at his plate again.

"It's a tried and true, authentic Italian recipe," Pepper defended. "So it's probably much older than that."

"Don't knock it till you try it," Clint said. "it's amazing, Cap." He had nearly finished his plate. "I suggest you eat before it gets cold, Tony."

"Or before Clint takes it," Nat added. "It is quite good, boys,"

"Thank you, Nat."

"I agree," Bruce added around a mouthful of pasta. "I didn't know either of you could cook, Captain."

"I really don't," Bucky said. "I just did whatever he told me."

Meanwhile, Tony finally got up the gumption to take a bite. "It smells good; it can't taste too bad, right?" he muttered as he took his first bite. "Ohmigosh," he said around his bite. "This is to die for!"

"Did you seriously think that  _Captain America_  would give us inedible food?" Clint shook his head and finished off his second plate.

"I still don't believe that you two grandpas cooked this yourselves," Tony argued. "You took it out of the catering boxes."

"I thought we already went over this," Bucky sighed. "It didn't come out of a box. Well, the noodles did—"

"See! Confession!" Tony shouted.

"They weren't cooked yet, Stark!"

"Tony, drop the subject." Pepper said in a warning tone. "There's no point in arguing."

They managed to finish dinner without any further mention of where the food came from until they were clearing the table.

"Fellas, that was a great dinner," Clint said. "We boys should team up again sometime."

"Miss Potts did the salad," Bucky said.

"Just Pepper is fine, Bucky," Pepper replied. "And you helped."

He shrugged. "I just chopped up the vegetables you handed to me."

"And did a good job at it." Pepper smiled. She turned to the others, taking the pasta dish from Steve. "They who cooked do not clean." She said, handing the dish to Nat.

"Come on, Bruce, Stark, the dishes won't clean themselves," Nat said, yanking a protesting Tony with her to the kitchen.

"We can help, Pepper, " Steve said.

"No, you boys have done enough for one night," Pepper answered. "Why don't you go and check on Grace?"

Steve nodded and Bucky followed him into the elevator.

"She's nice."

"Hmm?"

"Pepper, she's nice," Bucky repeated. "She acts like she doesn't know my past. She talks about your sister like she already knows her."

"Yeah, Pepper is really nice. Not sure how or why she puts up with Tony, but she's nice."

Down in the lab, Steve pulled a chair up to Grace's bedside while Bucky just rested his hands on the footboard. He watched Steve gently take Grace's small, white hand in his own, much larger ones. Bucky remembered vaguely when Steve's hands were not so much bigger than her's.

* * *

" _How ya doin', Gracie?"_

 _"_ _I'm...._ cough _.....alright, Stevie...."_

* * *

"She was never as sick as often as you were," Bucky suddenly remembered, "We were always kinda worried when she got sick because it was always pretty bad..."

"Yeah," Steve answered, never taking his eyes off his sister's face. "With Grace, it was all or noth—"

Just then, she stirred. Her eyes fluttered a moment, then flew open. They were an even more beautiful blue than Bucky remembered.

She looked up at Steve in.... _fear_. She feared him and shrank away. Steve felt like he had been punched in the gut by Thor or Hulk. "Gracie? It's me, Steve," He tried to soothe her to no avail.

"Wo bin ich?" she breathed, her eyes darting all around the room before resting on Bucky. She seemed to be pleading with him and he suddenly had a very strong urge to simply scoop her up in his arms and never let go as she spoke again, softly. "Wer bist du?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wo bin ich?: German for "Where am I?"
> 
> Wer bist du?: German for "Who are you?"


	14. Chapter XIV

_**Grace's Point of View.** _

She didn't know where she was. It was warm and soft. A hand gentle cradled hers. Warmth, gentleness…..these were practically foreign ideas to her. Maybe she was dreaming. She had better not tell her masters about her dreams. They would mock and hurt her; they always did. She opened her eyes. It was light, very light, and the warmth did not fade. Completely opposite of the HYDRA facility she lived in, where it was always dark and cold. Maybe she had finally pleased her masters. Suddenly, she realized the hand was still holding hers. She lifted her eyes to meet light blue eyes full of…..Concern? The huge blonde, blue-eyed man holding her hand said something, but she didn't understand it.

"Where am I?" she asked. Her voice sounded weak. She could not be weak; they always hurt her when she was weak. Her eyes roved the room and found another man standing at the foot of her bed. His dark hair was shaggy and half-obscured his face. A five o' clock shadow cover the lower part of his face. Something about him felt slightly familiar. Both of them did. Maybe they were with HYDRA and her masters. "Who are you?" she asked.

"What is your name?" the one at the foot of the bed asked. She could understand him!

"I have no name. I am the Shadow," she answered automatically, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. That was what her masters taught her to say.

"I am Bucky," he said, then pointed to the other man. "This is Steve. We are here to help you."

"Help me? To prepare for a mission? Have I been chosen for a mission?" she asked. "I am ready." She tried to rise, to show him she was ready. She must not appear weak. The one called Steve gently placed his hands on her shoulders, lightly pushing her back down. He said something, but, again, she did not understand him, though the words were starting to sound familiar to her. She looked up at him. Worry and something else she could not name shone so strongly from his blue eyes, she could almost feel it physically, like a warm blanket wrapping around her. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would like for this gentle giant to hold her. She just knew this man would not hurt her….

She shook herself mentally. They always hurt her eventually. Some pretended to be her friend to catch her off her guard, but they always hurt her in the end.

* * *

_**Steve's Point of View.** _

Grace spoke in German. His brows furrowed. She had never even been to Germany, and now she didn't seem to understand English. She and Bucky made a few exchanges. At least she was talking; that was a good sign. Bucky had hardly spoken at first when he found him. Suddenly, she was trying to get up. He quickly and carefully pushed her back down.

"Not yet, you're not strong enough, Grace." He said gently. She looked up at him, confused. It broke his heart see his Grace looking at him like he was a complete stranger. "Just rest, Gracie," He whispered, tucking a golden curl behind her ear. "I'll be back soon," He brushed a kiss to her forehead, then rose and left, Bucky following him. Steve pressed the button for the common floor. Leaning against the elevator wall, he let his head tip back. "She doesn't even know me, Buck," he said brokenly.

"Steve, surely you knew they would wipe her memories," Bucky reasoned.

"It doesn't make it any easier," Steve answered as the doors opened. He headed straight for the kitchen.

"What are you doing, Steve?"

"Making her soup. She's gotta be hungry."

"Okay," Bucky could tell when to leave Steve alone. He headed into the living room area.

"How's Sleeping Beauty?" Tony asked as Bucky came in. Bucky lowered himself into a chair with a sigh. "She doesn't remember us at all," he answered. "and she's only speaking German right now."

"I'm sorry, Bucky," Pepper said.

"Well, we just have to do for her like we did for you," Clint said.

"I already had broken from HYDRA," Bucky said. "She still thinks she part of HYDRA." Bucky leaned forward, forearms on his knees, and lowered his voice. "I didn't tell Steve what she said; she thought we were there to give her a mission."

The room grew quiet.

"At least we know we have our work cut out for us," Nat finally said. "Where's Steve?"

"Kitchen," Bucky answered heavily. "Making her soup. I think he wants to be alone right now."

"Poor guy," Clint shook his head and glanced toward the kitchen. "I'd be devastated too if that was my sister down there."

Steve stood in the kitchen, stirring cubed chicken into the broth he had made along with a little of the leftover chopped carrots and celery from the salad. The only sounds he heard were the faint murmur of his team's voices in the living room, the light bubbling of the simmering broth, and his own ragged breathing. His trembling hands nearly dropped the lid when he tried to cover the pot. He leaned heavily against the counter for a minute, then turned and let himself slide down the lower cabinets next to the stove. Tipping his head back, he leaned against the smooth wood. The image of Grace gazing up at him with her huge blue eyes, unrecognizing, fearful— _fearful of him_ —haunted Steve and sent another stab of pain through his longing heart. He loved Grace; she was his sister. The one he had not even known he had lost.


	15. Chapter 15

 

**_Steve's point of view._ **

Steve carried a tray containing a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a handful of crackers, and a tall glass of lemonade into Grace's room.

"Hello, Grace." With effort, he smiled at her to let her know that he was not there to hurt her.

Grace quickly tried to sit up in bed, but she was still recovering from thawing. Her weak arms would not support her, and she fell against the pillows. Steve quickly set the tray down on the side table and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed.

"You hungry?" he asked, setting the tray in her lap. She looked up at him in confusion. He handed her the spoon. "Eat," he said gently, pointing to the soup.

* * *

**_Grace's point of view._ **

The tall blonde man handed her a spoon. He said something, but she did not understand. However, somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a faint buzz, like she should know what he was saying. He pointed to the steaming soup. Was he giving her a hot meal? She never got hot meals, NEVER. She always received this gray-creamy colored mush that was highly nutritional but highly tasteless.

Hesitantly, she dipped her spoon into the soup. Like the word he-Steve- spoke, the scent made her feel like she knew it...a very long time ago. The moment the warm, savory broth touch her tongue she somehow knew she had eaten it before. She could not fathom how; all she remembered was HYDRA and their...training. They never gave her anything like this. How had she had she eaten it? Had a technician sneaked it in her? She was sure that she would remember that. How did she remember the taste of this amazing food? It the best thing she could ever remember eating. It warmed her inside and out, and not just physically. She felt it warm a place deep inside her chest that she was not sure existed before that moment.

"Grace?" A voice spoke, and for the briefest moment, Grace knew it belonged to one of the most important people in the world. She needed to know who it was. Her head jerked up, and her eyes met blue ones. Her gut clenched; she knew those eyes. She blinked and realized it was the tall blonde, Steve. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at her in confusion and concern.

Questions swirled around her mind. Did she know him? Why could she not remember meeting him before an hour ago? Was he important? A trainer? Was he to be her handler?

She knew that she should not have these thoughts, these questions. She was not supposed to ask questions. She was supposed to do what they told her to do.

Dipping the spoon into the soup again, she took a second bite. The same thing happened; she felt warm, and it felt familiar like it had happened a hundred times before. She was...comforted...and confused...at the same time by this new-was it really new?-feeling. Steve tucked a limp, greasy lock behind her ear and pressed his lips to her temple. Without thinking, she leaned into his touch. It felt safe. Warmth flooded her chest again. What was this feeling? Why did it all familiar when no one had ever touched or treated her like like this in all her memory?

She sensed him pause at her reaction. She instantly looked up at him, scanning him for his reaction. Would he be angry? Disappointed? Would he hurt her? They always did when she did something wrong.

Instead of the anger, contempt, or disappointment she expected, his face was full of caution, but his eyes, his familiar blue eyes held a spark of hope amidst the swirl of firm determination and a nameless softness. So familiar, so dear, so...

A flash of pain suddenly stabbed through her temples like knives. Over and over, stabs of agony throbbed through her skull. She did know if she cried out and curled up or remain still and silent as HYDRA trained her to. Sound began filtering in, but she did not know if any of the cacophony came from herself or not. All she knew was pain.

* * *

**_Bucky's point of view. (bold text = German)_ **

Bucky sat silent and Moody in the common room with the Avengers. The others battered quietly as he nursed a cold bottle of Coke.

Suddenly, Steve's voice rang through the intercom. "Bucky! Bruce! Get down here! Something's wrong with Grace!" In the background, they could hear moans and cries of pain with a few words of German scattered in.

Bucky felt his heart clench painfully, and he was entering the elevator before he even realized he had risen from his chair. A few moments later, Bruce joined him in the elevator, and Bucky slapped the button for the lab floor.

When they reach the right floor, Bucky rushed from the elevator and down the hall to Grace's room. He could already hear her screams. He found Grace scrunched into a tiny ball in Steve's lap. He held her tightly to his chest rocking her back and forth, whispering soothingly in her ear. Her hands were pressed to her temple, her fingers gripping her hair so hard Bucky could see white knuckles showing through the lank, golden strands.

"Oh, Babydoll..." Bucky breathed and knelt in front of them.

Steve quickly looked at him. "What did you say?"

"Babydoll...I don't know why I said that..." Bucky ran a hand through her hair as Grace shifted to bury her face against Steve's chest.

Bruce appeared at Steve's side with a needle in hand. "Do you think she'll let me give her a shot?"

Bucky hesitated. He knew HYDRA probably had used countless needles on her. She probably developed a fear of them now. However, he also knew HYDRA would have trained her to not fight her "caregivers." "I'm not sure," he finally said. "I don't like the idea."

"It's the best means of helping her, Buck," Steve said, turning red, moist eyes to his friend. "Injections work faster."

Bucky bit his lip. "Okay," he finally said, and moved back so that Bruce could reach her arm better. " **This is Bruce, Shadow; he's going to give you something, a shot, for the pain.** "

She turned her tear-stained face to him took great gulps of air in an effort to calm down. As soon she saw the needle, it was like a light switch had been flipped. No more tears, just a few shuddering breaths. She simply stared blankly ahead as Bruce gently put the needle on her upper arm and pushed the syringe down. Moments later, her eyes began to droop, and she relaxed against Steve, though it was clear that she was fighting it.

 **"Sleep, Shadow,"**  Bucky whispered to her.  **"It is not wrong to sleep when you are so unwell."** She looked over at him, then up at Steve.

Steve wiped the tears from her face and nodded. "Rest, Gracie." Her eyes fluttered closed. In minutes, her breathing grew steady and shallow, indicating that she was fast asleep.

"What did you give her, Dr. Banner?" Bucky asked, never taking his eyes off Grace's slumbering face.

"It's a combination sedative/pain-reliever. We've been developing it for you and Steve; we find that you two heal better and faster when you are knocked out," Bruce explained. "I just gave her a smaller dose to start with."

"Here, Buck, you hold her while we change the bedding," Steve suddenly said. Bucky looked at the bed and realized that Grace had spilled her soup all over the sheets in her sudden bout of pain. Hesitantly, he held out his arms for her. Steve carefully settled her knees over his metal arm and her head against his flesh shoulder. Bucky slowly maneuvered himself into a nearby chair.

A sweet warm feeling stole over his heart as the ex-assassin gazed down at her slumbering face. He could not explain how it felt to hold her; the way she fit in his arms, feeling her weight against his shoulder...it all felt so...comfortable...familiar...so  _right_...as if he had held her a hundred times before. Like this was how it was supposed to be..............


	16. Chapter 16

**Bold text = German**

_**Grace's point of view** _

Slowly, she came to her senses. She was still lying on something soft and warm. A large hand engulfed her right hand, and a weight pressed down on it. She could also sense a dip in her mattress on her left side near her knees. Prying her eyes open, she found herself in the same room as before. The blonde who was so gentle held her hand and his head rested on their intertwined fingers. Looking down on her other side, she found the shaggy dark-haired one who spoke German. His head rested on his arms which were folded on the mattress.

She felt a strange sense of... _peace_...something she could not remember feeling before.

Her gaze returned to the blonde. Steve...his name was Steve. The dark one...Bucky...told her. She needed to remember these names in case they wanted her to use them. While she did not have a name - assets did not have names - she knew that most people have them and like for them to be used.

Steve...He was so tall and strong; she was sure that he could break every bone in her body in moments if he wanted to. She knew many strong men. Her trainers were all very strong, brutal men. Their strength and love of using it against her oozed from them. Yet, Steve was never like that. In fact, she was certain that he was stronger than her trainers, but she had the distinct impression that he did not like inflicting pain on others. She also got a feeling that his greatest strength actually lay somewhere other than his limbs.

As she watched him slumber, her mind drifted back to the moments before the pain attacked her head. Golden hair, blue eyes, gentle hands, and air of determination: these struck a chord deep inside her dark heart, but she did not know what it meant.

* * *

_**Bucky's point of view** _

Bucky sensed the mattress shift under his arms. Raising his head, he watched Der Schatten...Grace...turn toward Steve's sleeping form. Bucky felt a bittersweetness at the scene. Every time he saw Steve, his friend's eyes were always full of such stubborn optimism and hope. Steve was so sure that Grace would remember.

As Bucky watched, she tentatively reached out and touched Steve's hair, then buried her fingers in the golden strands.

 **"Why do I feel like I should know you?"** she whispered.  **"Why does your voice haunt my dreams? I know you, yet I don't."**

Bucky smiled softly. Maybe there was a little hope after all.

* * *

_**Steve's point of view** _

Steve woke slightly disoriented. It took a moment for him to remember that he was in Grace 's room, resting on their intertwined hands. Suddenly, he realized there was something on his head. He opened his eyes and found that Grace had turned onto her side, her free hand resting in his hair as she had been combing her fingers through it. Hope rose in his heart. Maybe, just maybe, she was remembering.


	17. Chapter 17

_She was lying on a quilt-covered bed in an unfamiliar room. Well, it seemed familiar, but she did not remember it. Her throat burned and hurt with every swallow, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her chest ached._

_Breathing triggered a hitch in her throat and set her off coughing harshly, making her throat hurt even more. She sat up to ease her breathing, and her quilt slipped from her shoulders, reminding her of how freezing she was. Looking down, she found herself in a pale blue flannel nightgown, tangled golden curls resting on each shoulder._

_Just then, the door opened to reveal a small, skinny blonde teen boy, a taller, broader built boy stood just behind him._

_"Look who I brought home from school, Gracie!" the blonde said cheerfully, then noticed she was sitting up. "Grace! You can't get out of bed yet!" He rushed forward, gently pushing her down. She fell back against her pillow, all strength suddenly gone._

_"It's hard to breathe, Stevie..." Another fit of harsh coughs racked her tiny body, causing "Stevie" to help her sit up until they passed. She was not sure how she knew him or his name, but she seemed to be right since he did not correct her. She snuggled back down beneath her faded pink and yellow quilt. "It's cold," she murmured._

_A gentle hand combed the tangles back from her face. "I know, you've gotten yourself a fever since I went to school," Stevie said. "Be a pal and grab the cover off my bed, will ya?" he asked the taller, dark-headed boy, who nodded and left the room. "I'm gonna make you some soup, Gracie. That'll warm you right up," Stevie said._

_"Chicken noodle?" She asked hopefully._

_He grinned back. "Just like Ma taught us," he promised, kissed her cheek, then left the room._

_Moments later, the dark-haired boy came back. He carefully covered her all the way up to her chin with the worn blue quilt._

_"Don't worry about a thing, Babydoll. Steve and I will take care of ya."_

_She wanted to say "I know you will," but she was just so tired, and her throat hurt...and...and...her eyes fluttered closed for a moment..._

* * *

Grace blinked awake to find herself in her white room. She was in bed, wearing light blue pajamas. Somehow the boys in her dream were familiar. They spoke to her like they knew her, especially the blonde one. She felt like they were the most important people in the world to her, and that she should know them. Particularly, the blonde, but, at the same time, she felt so drawn to the brunette. They felt so safe, so comforting, that she wanted them back. They were just boys, but she somehow knew that they would still look after her and keep her safe.

"Stevie?" she called out timidly, still hazy from her dream. Her head began throbbing with stabbing pains once more. Burying her face in her knees, she called softly again. "Stevie? Stevie? Need you..." She was not sure where these strange words were coming from, but she hoped they made sense. "Need you, Stevie..."

That was how Bruce found Grace ten minutes later. She was rocking back and forth, knees drawn up to her chest with her face hidden there, mumbling about "Stevie." He tried to talk to her to find out what was wrong, bit all he could figure out was that she was in some kind of pain. When he tried to give her a pain reliever, she shrunk away from his needle violently, almost falling off the bed.

" **Nein**!" she cried. "Need Stevie! He make better."

"'Stevie'? You mean Steve? Your brother, Steve?"

"Need Stevie," she insisted in broken English.

"Okay, okay," Bruce placated, his hands held out in a calming gesture. "I'll call for him." He glanced up toward the ceiling. "JARVIS, could you please put me in touch with Captain Rodgers?"

"Of course, Dr. Banner," JARVIS's cool voice replied, startling Grace.

"Hello?" Steve's voice came over the room's speakers. Grace gasped. It was the voice of the boy in her dream!

"Cap? It's Bruce."

"Something I can help you with, Bruce?"

"Sort of," he answered. "She asking for you."

"What?" The disbelief in his voice was palpable.

"Grace; she's asking for you. Well, she's speaking broken English and is asking for a 'Stevie', but I figure she must mean you."

As if on cue, Grace called out hesitantly. "S-Stevie?

"Grace! Are you alright, Gracie?"

"Need Stevie."

"I'm coming, Gracie, I'm coming!" he excitedly answered.

Less than three minutes later, Steve bolted out of the elevator onto Grace's floor. Bruce met him in the hallway. "What's going on, Bruce?" He had been down here a few hours ago, but SHIELD business had pulled him back upstairs.

"I'm not sure. I came in to check on her, and she was crying and asking for 'Stevie'. I think her head is hurting again, but she wouldn't let me anywhere near her."

"I'll see what I can do," Steve nodded.

"Just don't get your hopes up too high, Steve," Bruce added. "I don't think she remembers you're her brother yet. I think she just knows she can trust you."

Steve paused, then gave him a solemn nod before entering Grace's room. "Gracie?" He found her sitting up with her knees pulled up her chest, her head in her hands. He was at her side in an instant. "What's wrong, Gracie?" He asked softly, kneeling by her side.

Without looking up at him, she flung herself against his chest, mumbling a mix of German and English. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her close, but it only lasted a few moments.

Suddenly, she tore herself away. This could not be her Stevie! He was not small and thin like Stevie. His voice was right, but he felt wrong. One of HYDRA's tricks! She should have known better! Now they will hurt her. She shrunk down, making herself as small as she could and waited for the blows that would soon come.

But instead of harsh, bone-breaking blows, large hands gently pulled her into a lap and tenderly held her. Fingers softly combed through her hair in a familiar way.

"It's me, Grace, it's Steve," the not-Stevie said.

" **Nein**! Too big! Not Stevie!" she cried, pushing weakly against him.

Steve's heart broke as he suddenly remembered that Grace never knew about the serum. He had never written to her about it for fear that his letters might fall into enemy hands. "Look at me, Grace! Please?"

Slowly, she complied and found herself looking up into familiar blue eyes framed by familiar blonde hair. Stevie!

But everything else was wrong! Stevie was only was few inches taller than she was, but this man was tall. Stevie was skinny; this man was well built and strong. This man could not be Stevie...could he?

"I know I don't look quite like I did the last time you saw me, but it's me, Grace," Steve said. "I was given this serum, and it made me taller and stronger an-and faster," he explained. "Please, believe me, Grace."

She cocked her head, considering him. He talked just like Stevie did. He had the same blue eyes as Stevie. He was gentle with her like Stevie was. Could it really be him?

"What soup you make?" She suddenly asked in her new-found but incomplete English.

"What?" Steve asked, confused.

"I sick; hurt throat, cough...fever," she said. "Stevie promise soup. What soup?"

Steve racked his brain, trying to remember what she was referring to. Well, he had made several types, but Grace's favorite had always been...

"Chicken Noodle?"

"Just like...?"

Suddenly, he remembered her severe cold in his junior year of high school. It was first time in years that she had been sick at all. He had come home, Bucky in tow, to discover his little sister's condition had worsened, and she had added a fever to her symptoms. He promised to make her chicken noodle soup...

"Just like Ma taught us."

The change in her was immediate. Her fear and suspicion melted into hope. "Stevie?"

"Yes, Grace, it's me," he answered with baited breath.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and slid down her pale cheeks. "Stevie!" Her cry was muffled by his shirt as she threw herself into his arms once more.

He held her tightly, tears of joy and relief pricking his eyes and threatening to spill down his face. "I'm here, Gracie, I'm here. I've got you."

"Safe, Stevie safe," she mumbled as she clung to him. "Make  **Schatten**  better."

"Does your head hurt?"

She nodded.

"Well, we'll have to call Bruce back in here to give you a shot."

She shook her head insistently. " **Nein**..."

"But I don't have any pain-killers, Grace," he said. "I trust Bruce with my life. He won't hurt you."

"Bruce no hurt Schatten?"

He shook his head. "Never."

"Trust Bruce?"

"With my life," Steve repeated. Slowly, she nodded. He glanced up toward the ceiling. "JARVIS, please ask Bruce to bring Grace a pain-killer."

"Yes, sir."

"Please, no sleep. Bruce always make  **Schatten**  sleep." Grace pipped up. 

Steve grinned. "You got it," he said. "Uh, JARVIS, please make that a non-drowsy pain-killer."

"Very good, sir."

There were a few moments of silence, then Grace spoke up. "Stevie? Where JARVIS?" she asked as she studied the ceiling.

"Well, JARVIS is an A.I., so he's...sort of everywhere," Steve tried to explain. "In the walls, all the wires and circuitry. He controls the Tower. His speakers are usually up in the ceiling."

"Everywhere? He sees me?"

"Yes, Miss Rodgers, I can see you," JARVIS answered in his cool, Brittish voice. Grace jumped.

"He won't hurt you, Grace," Steve chuckled. Just then, Bruce came in.

"Everything alright in here?" he asked, noting Grace's startled expression.

"We're fine. Grace is just getting acquainted with JARVIS."

"Okay, then," Bruce smile gently. "One non-drowsy pain-killer as ordered." He held up a syringe. Grace gulped slightly, but nodded and held out her arm, though she eyed him warily. Bruce inserted the needle as carefully as he could to make it as painless as possible. Just as with the last shot he had given her, Grace just stared blankly ahead as he administered the injection. She did not flinch or make a sound. Bruce and Steven watched her sadly, knowing this was probably a trained response that the HYDRA scientists had ingrained in her.

After Bruce left, Steve and Grace adjusted positions so they were sitting side-by-side with their legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. He kept an arm around her shoulders as she rested her head against him.

"Stevie?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"Hmm?"

"Why you call me, 'Grace'?"

"Well, um..." Steve was not sure how to explain that everything she probably remembered was wrong. "Well, it's your name."

She shook her head. " **Schatten**  is HYDRA asset. Assets have no names."

"You remember when you were sick and I promised the soup?"

She nodded.

"Well, that was...a long time ago," he said carefully. "and I called you 'Grace' even then."

" **Ja** _._ "

"Well, that was all before HYDRA."

"Before?" She shook her head again. "No before. Always HYDRA."

"No, Gracie, you weren't always HYDRA. They just want you to think that."

Grace frantically covered his mouth. "Must be careful! HYDRA hears all!" she whispered. "Will hurt me and take you away."

"No, Grace," he shook his head. "This is no HYDRA here."

" **Nein**! HYDRA everywhere!"

"No, it's not!" Steve answered firmly. "There's no HYDRA here. You will never have to face HYDRA again; I promise you."

Grace shrunk away slightly at the fierceness of his voice. "N-No HYDRA?"

"No HYDRA," Steve nodded firmly. "They will never touch you again," he promised as he held her close.

"Who asset is  **Schatten**  now?" she asked timidly.

"No one's. You're a person named Grace."

She shook her head sadly. "Asset. Have no name."

"Yes, you do!" He looked her in eye. "You are HYDRA's asset no more. Your name is Norma Grace Rogers!" He pulled a photograph out of his pocket. It was of himself and Grace, taken a year before the war broke out. "See? There we are."

Hesitantly, she reached out and touched the photograph. "Stevie and me? Before HYDRA?"

"Yes." He answered as evenly as possible. He felt a little stab in his heart with everything she said. She remembered enough to know she knew him once upon a time, but no more. He had to swallow a few times to keep the tears pricking his eyes from falling. Suddenly, he felt a hand in his.

"Stevie sad? Why?"

He looked into her searching face once more. Against his will, a single tear slipped down his face. Grace slowly, tentatively, reached up to wipe it away, as if she was afraid he would not let her touch him. Using her pajamas sleeve, she wiped it away, shaking her head.

"Stevie should not be sad.  **Schatten** is here."

Steve smiled sadly, pulling her close. "I know, Gracie, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nein: No
> 
> Ja: Yes
> 
> Schatten: Shadow
> 
> I hope Grace doesn't sound too weird. I've never written in "broken" English before. All I have to go on is what I have heard, which isn't much, I'm afraid.


	18. Chapter XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold print = speaking in German

 The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Grace proved herself strong enough to stand. Bucky joined Steve in going to see Grace that morning, and Pepper joined them at Steve's request. He thought she might feel better knowing there were other women around.

"Good morning, Grace," Steve said as they entered the room. "You remember Bucky?" Grace nodded. "This is a friend of ours, Pepper." He pointed to the blonde.

"Hi there," Pepper said, smiling warmly. "It's nice to finally meet you, Grace."

Grace smiled slightly and nodded back, looking unsure.

"Would you like to take a shower?" Pepper asked. "It's been few days, and I'm sure you'll feel better when you feel clean."

Grace just stared uncertainly.

"It's okay," Bucky said. "Just answer honestly." Slowly, Grace nodded, absently toying with a lock of her hair.

"Well, then, come right with me, we'll get you all cleaned up," Pepper replied, motioning for Grace to follow her. Grace complied without a word.

Steve shook his head sadly. "She's so different than you were, Buck. Sometimes, she acts like herself, just no memories. Other times, she more like the Winter Soldier."

"Her...programming...was not as..." Bucky began and had to swallow thickly. Steve gently laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "...not...as thorough as mine. They only wiped her once, according to the files JARVIS translated. I suspect they meant to do more before the war ended and forced them to abandon the lab."

"Guess that's good news," Steve said without humor.

"Yeah; she's not as messed up inside as I am," Bucky sighed heavily.

"Buck-"

"It's true, Steve, and you know it," he retorted. "I might never remember everything; I'll never be that happy-go-lucky guy you remember again."

"I know, Bucky," Steve answered. "All I want is for you to be you, free of HYDRA's hold. That's all I want for both of you."

"Punk," Bucky muttered as he gave Steve a one-armed hug.

"Jerk," Steve whispered back as he reciprocated the hug. "Let's find something for Grace to wear when she gets out," he added, releasing Bucky. "Clint helped me order some things that are similar to what Grace used to wear. Maybe it will help her to remember."

They went up to Steve's floor where JARVIS said the boxes had been taken.

"You got ordered clothes already?" Bucky asked surprised.

"Agent Barton requested that the order be rushed," the A.I.'s cool, British voice answered. Opening the boxes, Steve and Bucky decided on a blue cotton dress and some leather soled slippers. Steve also dug out a package of hairpins in case Grace wanted to do her hair. They got back in the elevator and pressed the button for Tony and Pepper's floor.

When the doors opened, they headed through the living room towards the guest bedroom.

"Miss Pepper?" Bucky called out

"We're in here," she answered. "In the guest room. It's the 21st century, boys, so come on in."

Steve blush and Bucky swallowed slightly at her implications of it being a woman's room, but Bucky pushed forward and opened the door. Pepper was sitting on the beige comforter-covered bed with an eye on the bathroom.

She glanced at the dress and slippers in Steve's hand. "I take it you two didn't think about undergarments," she said dryly with a knowing look. Steve blushed even darker and muttered something about not know what to get. Bucky just shrugged. "Don't worry, Steve," she grinned sympathetically. "Nat and I are way ahead of you." She nodded to a small pile of white and lace. Steve and Bucky carefully averted their eyes to Pepper's amusement. "Let's see what you have here." She held out a hand to Steve and took the dress from him. She held it up and gave it a once-over over. "You're giving her a grandma dress to wear?"

"It's not a grandma dress," Steve defended. "She had one almost exactly like it before the war."

"It's not like she's gonna be in a fashion contest," Bucky added, rolling his eyes. "Besides, Steve thinks maybe it will help her to remember."

Pepper cocked her head. "Well, I guess it might." She took the undergarments, dress, and slippers to the bathroom door. "I have clothes for you; may I come in?"

"Yes," came the soft answer.

Pepper slipped into the steamy bathroom. A few moments later, the water shut off and Pepper came out, closing the door firmly behind her. Grace came out a few minutes later, wearing the [dress](https://shoplook.io/polyvore-set/1143691) and slippers with a towel wrapped around her head.

"Hi there, Gracie," Steve smiled. To him, she looked swell in the "grandma" dress. He remembered many nights when she came out of the bath just like this and to the radio with him.

Grace looked up at him, but did not respond. However, they could see a questioning look in her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Pepper asked. "If there is something you need or want, it's alright to ask for it. We won't hurt you."

Grace stared down at the floor for several seconds before looming back up and hesitantly asking, "Why does Stevie call me Grace? Have told you, I am just  **Schatten**."

"Because it is your name," Steve answered.

"Have no name."

"You do now. Your name is Grace Rogers."

"Why?"

"Because you are HYDRA's no longer," Bucky spoke up. "HYDRA left you to rot in Italy. We found you frozen in a cryo-chamber."

Grace nodded slowly. " **Schatten**  remembers the freezing. There was great cold, then great sleepiness."

Bucky nodded. "That is the freezing."

"HYRDA will come for me." Grace said softly.

"No, they won't," Bucky said, stepping closer to grip her shoulders. "I was once HYDRA's too." He shook his head sadly. "They did not care about you. They had me."

She stared at the metal hand resting on her shoulder. "The Soldier..." she breathed. "You are the Winter Soldier."

"I am HYDRA's Fist no-"

 **"I was trained for you,"**  she said, speaking over him, reverting back to German.  **"We are to be a team. You are HYDRA's asset, and I, yours."**

 **"They left you in an abandoned base for over seventy years,"**  Bucky answered in German. **"The Soldier had many missions in that time. They forgot about you, Grace."**

She stared down at her feet.  **"I was not ready,"**  she whispered.  **"The freezing was one of my punishments,"**  She raised her eyes to his. **"but I am ready now, Soldier. I am sure of it!"**

"I am the Soldier no more!" Bucky cried, switching back to English. "And you are so much more than a shadow!" he added in a choked voice. How he wished he knew why he wanted to crush her to his chest and never let her go; why did he want to find the ones who "trained" her and strangle the life out of them with his bare hands. The fingers of his flesh hand tentatively brushed her cheek. "You are a...rose...a...beautiful rose." he whispered.

Steve watched the exchange with hope. Maybe one of them would remember something soon.


	19. Chapter XIX

While Pepper showed Grace how to use the hair dryer, Steve and Bucky went down to the common room floor to start on breakfast. Nat and Clint were finishing up their breakfasts when the super-soldiers came in.

"Morn'n, Cap. Morn'n, Barnes," Clint said while Nat simply nodded her greeting.

"Good morning, Clint," Steve replied.

"Barton. Romanoff," Bucky nodded.

"Is there any bacon left from last week?" Steve asked. "I'm making breakfast for four."

"Four? Don't you mean at least five?" Clint teased.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Robin Hood." Bucky rolled his eyes as he opened the fridge.

"You boys do eat enough for least two each," Nat pipped up.

"Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery," Bucky answered as he dug around in the fridge. "It's not our fault we're hungry enough to eat a horse in the morning."

Steve glanced over at Clint and Nat from the cabinets he was taking a canister of oatmeal from and grinned. Bucky clearly in a very... _Bucky_...mood today. Bucky joined Steve at the island in the middle of the kitchen with a carton of eggs and a slab of bacon.

"Actually, this punk," he elbowed Steve. "he asked for it, so his bottomless pit is all his fault."

"They didn't tell me that my metabolism would quadruple!"

"Yeah, yeah, we hear you, Stevie."

At that point, Clint and Nat were fighting back laughter and tried to hide it in their glasses of orange juice. Steve grinned ruefully and shook his head. Just then, Pepper and Grace came in.

Bucky caught sight of Grace and momentarily forgot how to breathe. Her [dress](https://shoplook.io/polyvore-set/1143691) hung loosely on her under-fed frame, but it brought out the color of her eyes. Her hair, that had framed her face and shoulders in lank strands, now was curly, shining softly in the morning light streaming through the windows. A black headband, probably borrowed from Pepper, held the untamed curls back from her pale face. She was thin and pale from malnutrition, yes, but she was beautiful. He quickly swallowed and looked away, praying no one had noticed his staring.

Steve smiled when he saw his sister standing in the doorway. She was paler and thinner than he remembered, but she looked more like herself. She almost looked comfortable now that she was clean and in decent clothes.

"Feel better, Grace?" he asked with a grin. With a shy smile, she nodded. "These are two friends of mine," Steve continued. "This is Nat and Clint." He pointed to both in turn.

"Stevie and Bucky's friends?" she asked.

"Yep," Nat answered. "which reminds me, you boys joining us for training this afternoon?"

"We'll see," Steve answered, subtly nodding in Grace's direction. Nat nodded in understanding.

"What are you guys training on?" Bucky asked as he fried the bacon.

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," Nat replied loftily.

"So informative, your partner, Barton," Bucky commented dryly.

"It's a good thing too, after all the times she's been captured," Clint answered. "Mostly on purpose, of course," he hurriedly added at her withering look.

Steve grinned at the banter and turned to Pepper who had slipped into a seat at the table. "You staying for breakfast, Miss Pepper?"

"Well, it is Saturday," she smiled. "Since it's my day off, I think I have time for breakfast."

"What's a 'day off', Pep?" A yawning Tony asked as he stumbled in.

" A day where I don't go to the office and have minimal work calls," she answered, getting up and steering Tony to a chair.

"Oh. Well, there are no days off for the fabulous," he answered and plopped into a seat.

"Guess we're making breakfast for everyone," Bucky sighed and added more bacon to the pan he was watching.

"Well, that's what you get for cooking bacon where we all can smell it," Tony mumbled as he put his head in his arms on the tabletop.

"It's okay, Buck, we'll just cook a few more eggs, and add some more oatmeal to the pot," Steve said. He reached back up into the cabinet for the oatmeal canister but instead found it on the counter near his elbow. "Wait, I'm sure I-"

He turned to find Grace handing him the milk jug from the refrigerator.

"You will be needing this,  **ja**?" She stood there with a white apron from the pantry on. He took the jug from her, and she quickly turned to the scrambled egg pan to keep them from overcooking. Steve did not remember anyone starting on the eggs. Bucky and Steve watched her stir the eggs as they cooked like they had seen her do countless times before the war.

"What? You guys didn't know she was helping you?" Clint asked with a chuckle. "It's interesting to watch; never seen three people be able to cook together at the same stove."

Without a word, Grace turned, grabbed the oatmeal canister, added more to the pot, then asked "Stevie, can you pass me the milk?" in perfect English. For a moment, it was nothing like had ever happened to her, and they were in their kitchen in the apartment in Brooklyn.

"Y-yeah, Gracie, sure," Steve managed to say. She took it from him and poured in the right amount. "Keep stirring that so it doesn't stick, will you?" She glanced up at Steve, who immediately nodded since he didn't trust himself to speak. "And don't you let the bacon burn, Bucky Barnes!" she called over her shoulder as she transferred the cooked eggs to a large ceramic bowl. This drew his attention back to the task at hand and he quickly took the skillet off the stove

She brushed past Bucky, setting a plate near him for the bacon, and set the eggs on the table. Everyone watched her in amazement.

Just then, a bubbling off in the corner drew everyone's eyes to the corner of the counter where the old-fashioned percolator Steve found in a thrift store stood.

"Coffee's ready, fellas!" Grace commented, moving to get it.

"Smell's great, Babydoll," Bucky replied without thinking as he set the bacon on the table. She smiled over her shoulder at him, then froze. She looked down at herself in the apron, mumbling in German, clearly confused.

Bucky paused, shaking as if to clear it. "I'm sorry, Grace, I have no idea where that came from."

"Grace?" Steve asked with concern.

"What has Schatten done?" she asked, almost fearfully. And just like that their Grace slipped away, and broken girl HYDRA left behind was back.

"Nothing," Steve answered. "You helped cook breakfast. You used to do it all the time."

"But Schatten never been taught cooking."

"Yes, you have, Grace. Ma taught you years ago when you were still in school."

"School?"

"Hey, why don't you kiddies discuss it over breakfast. The food's getting cold," Tony pipped up as Clint brought over plates and silverware. "Can I get some of Miss Wonderland's coffee?"

Grace immediately moved to get coffee cups and the percolator. Quickly, she poured a cup and set it in front of him.

"Name's Tony, by the way," he added, sipping his coffee. "Wow," he quickly took another sip, causing her to pause as she poured Pepper a cup as well. "You brew a mean cup of joe, Alice. Usually, I need creamer and stuff, but this can definitely stand alone."

"I did well?"

"Absolutely fabulous, Alice, m'dear."

"Her name's Grace, Stark," Bucky huffed as he sat down, taking the cup of coffee she passed him.

"It's a reference, Jack Frost," Tony replied around a mouthful of eggs. "Am I the only one who thinks the whole blue-dress-white-apron-black-headband ensemble makes her look like Alice in Wonderland?"

Pepper lightly smacked his arm. "Tony! Be nice to Grace!"

"I am being nice! Am I seriously the only one thinking it?"

"Well, maybe she does, but I wasn't gonna mention it," Nat shrugged.

"D-Did I do bad?" Grace hesitantly asked, fingering her hair and dress with her free hand.

"No, Grace, you look swell," Steve said firmly. "Tony's just being a pain." She nodded uncertainly, but poured another cup of coffee and handed it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ja = yes
> 
> Already 15 kudos! Thank you! You guys are the bee's knees! :D


	20. Chapter 20

After breakfast, Steve, Bucky, and Grace went into the common floor living space. Grace sat beside Steve on the sofa, while Bucky sat in one of the chairs. Grace spotted the picture that Bucky had been looking at the night before and picked it up.

"Stevie and Schatten," she commented, teaching the black-and-white figures with a faint smile. "Who that?" she asked, pointing to the third figure.

"That's Bucky," Steve answered. Grace looked over to Bucky, then held up the photo for a side-by-side comparison.

"Look different," she said. "Does not look happy now," she added softly.

Bucky swallowed at her perceptiveness. Had she always been able to read him that easily? Or was his emotions just that transparent back then? He sighed. "A lot has happened since that picture was taken."

Grace tilted her head curiously. "What happen?" she asked, then slapped her hand over her mouth, looking frightened. She was not supposed to ask questions! Now she would be in trouble!

Seeing her wide eyes, Bucky quickly tried to calm her. "It's okay to ask questions, Grace."

"You aren't in trouble," Steve added. Grace nodded, then tilted her head again as she watched Bucky weigh his answer. He leaned forward with his arms braced on his knees, his shaggy hair half hiding his face.

Grace bit lip and looked up at Steve, as if seeking permission for something. Curious as to what she would do, Steve nodded. Hesitating slightly, Grace slipped from her seat and knelt in front of Bucky. After a moment of deliberation, she took his hands in hers. Bucky eyes flew up to meet her's in surprise. "What happen, Bucky?" she asked again, in a gentle voice.

Bucky sighed and bowed his hand again, looking at their joined hands. "War, Babydoll. War is what happened."

She gently squeezed his hands.

"I'm sorry, Grace; I don't know why I keep calling you that." Bucky let out a frustrated sigh, raking his metal hand through his unruly hair.

"You always called her that, Buck," Steve finally explained.

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"I don't remember that."

"It okay," Grace said. To Steve and Bucky's chagrin, she was blushing. "I-I...not m-mind..." she murmured.

A small grin formed on Bucky's lips. Gosh, she was so cute when she was blush- _wait_ -where did that come from? She was Steve's, his  _best friend's_ , sister! He was not supposed to think of her like  _that_...was he? However, he could not resist giving her hand a little squeeze. "Thanks...Babydoll."


	21. Chapter 21

With everyone out enjoying their weekend, Steve and Bucky decided to introduce (well,  _reintroduce_ ) Grace to movies. They started a favorite of Bucky's before the war,  _The Mark of Zorro_ , then they watched Steve's ever popular  _The Wizard of Oz._

By then, it was nearly time for lunch, so Steve decided to reheat the spaghetti left over from the night before and gave his sister a generous portion, remembering she had hardly eaten anything last night or that morning. When he set a plate of steaming pasta in front of Grace, she just looked at it while Steve and Bucky began eating.

"It's okay; it's good," Bucky encouraged, covering for Grace because he knew HYDRA would have trained her not to touch any food until they gave her permission to eat, even if she was starving. Grace picked up her fork and tried to scoop some up, but the pasta slipped off her fork. She tried two more times, but the saucy noodles just kept sliding off.

"Stevie, how you eat this?" she finally asked in frustration. Buck had to chuckle at the look on her face. She appeared to be torn between annoyance at the slippery pasta and fascination with the unfamiliar food. Steve showed her how to twirl the noodles around her fork and eat the spaghetti properly. Grace picked up on it quickly and had no further mishaps. When she finally got a bite in her mouth, her eyes lit up with appreciation.

"Like it?" Steve asked, a barely noticeable note of nervousness in his voice. Grace had always been an amazing cook, so when he cooked for her, he always hoped he had not messed it up.

Grace enthusiastically nodded in answer to his question. Steve smiled in relief but had to blink back the tears pricking his eyes when he remembered she was the reason he had the spaghetti recipe in the first place. After seventy years, they were finally sitting down to their first homemade Italian dinner together. Their first meal together since Grace shipped out.

"You okay, Stevie?" Grace asked when he fell quiet.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I was just thinking."

"That's a dangerous pastime, Steve," Bucky quipped.

"I know," Steve shook his head. "I was just realizing that this is our first real meal together since the war."

"Steve,  **Schatten** , and Bucky ate together?"

"Yeah." Steve's smile grew bittersweet; he was the only one who could really appreciate the moment. Bucky and Grace were still trying to remember.

"I came over a lot on weekends, right?" Bucky asked.

"That's right," Steve nodded.

"You cook often?" Grace asked.

"Actually, you did most of the cooking, Grace," he answered.

"I cook?"

"Yes, Ma taught you."

" **Schatten**  not remember. Did I...do well?"

Steve reached over and squeezed her hand gently. "You were the best, Gracie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the person who catches the Disney reference in this chapter. ;) Please leave your thoughts and suggestions in the comment section; they are my inspiration!


	22. Chapter 22

After lunch, Steve started doing the dishes, in spite of the working dishwasher, and Grace wordlessly stepped up to dry them. A small smile grew on Bucky's face as he watched the brother-sister pair working together. Snippets of similar scenes from before the war flickered through his mind, and finally, it landed on one that it was Grace and Bucky doing dishes. However, they were not in the Brooklyn apartment; they were at the war front in Italy.

The memory played in his mind where Grace, who was doing the washing, handed him a tin coffee cup to rinse and dry, his fingers brushing hers and lingering a little longer than necessary as he took it from her. Then it all grew blurry for a moment. The last thing he remembered clearly before he returned to the present was himself taking one of Grace's soap-suddy hands in his and raising it to his lips for a kiss.

That revelation startled Bucky. Steve always said that Bucky had been smooth with girls, but surely he had had more respect for Steve and their friendship than toying with his best friend's sister. Surely he had had respect for Grace than that. Steve was like a brother; Bucky knew that. So, Grace was like a sister...right?

Bucky was pulled from his thoughts when Grace asked Steve what was on their schedule next.

"Um, well, we aren't on any kind of schedule today," Steve answered.

"Stevie and Bucky supposed to practice with Nat and Clint, **ja**?"

"We can, but we don't have to. Whatever you want to do is fine."

"I do not want to get Stevie and Bucky in trouble."

"We won't, Babydoll," Bucky said, wondering why the endearment just kept rolling of his tongue so easily. "Romanoff and Barton don't tell us what to do. Usually."

"Who does?"

"No one, unless we get called up for a mission," Steve said.

"Mission? You not forced to train for mission?"

"Nope," Bucky shook his head. "We usually do some anyway, though."

"Stevie, Bucky, and Schatten should train," Grace said decisively. "in case of mission."

That took the two super-soldiers by surprise. "What mission do you think you are going on, Grace?" Steve asked.

"I am Bucky-the Soldier's-asset. Was trained to be.  **Schatten**  must train for what mission he take me on," Grace answered as if stating the obvious.

"Woah, Babydoll!" Bucky stopped her in her tracks as she tried to leave the kitchen. "You are not _my asset_. You don't belong to anyone but yourself."

Grace's brow furrowed in confusion. "But Bucky is the Soldier.  **Schatten**  is Soldier's  **schatten**. Was trained to be Soldier's shadow."

Another memory suddenly flashed through Bucky's mind. This time, it was early during his time as the Winter Soldier. Probably a year or so after his capture, and not long after they had completely wiped him for the first time.

* * *

_A man whose name he did not know stood before him, talking. "How would you feel about a little assistant?" he asked the Soldier. "Someone to help make your missions faster to complete? Not to worry, what we have in mind shouldn't cramp your style. They'll be there to do what ever you say. When they are ready, they will be brought to you to train. They will eat, sleep, fight for HYDRA with you. Like your own little shadow..."_

* * *

Bucky grabbed his head as a stab of pain pierced through it. It had been several months since remembering had caused pain.

* * *

_A small stack of files was dropped on the table in front of him._

_"We'll even let you pick your favorite of the candidates," the man in a suit said, smirking as the Soldier began scanning the files in front of him._

_One caught his attention. It was a young woman; she was small, but the report said that she was stronger and had more fire than her frame promised. That would be an advantage. She had a strong protecting instinct. Good, she would have his back. She also had knowledge of field medicine. Being able to be patched up in the field was a bonus._

_He glanced at a few more. "Can I see the candidates?" He doubted they would actually let him have any say in who this new partner was, they liked to give the illusion that he had a voice, then yank it away suddenly. Thus, the man's answer surprised him._

_"Thought you would say that," the suited man smirked again. "You're in luck, Soldier. They arrived this morning." He led the Soldier down several hallways and stopped at a door. He pulled back the blind on the door's window. The Soldier gazed at the dozen or so men and women huddled in the room. Some looked like soldiers, some like civilians._

_One girl stood out to him. She sat near a corner, across from the door. A boy around sixteen years old rested his head on her shoulder. She carefully placed herself between him and the door. A protective gesture. Could she be the one in the file?_

_"Which one is that one?" He pointed to the petite blonde._

_"Interesting choice," the man beside him said. That's an Army nurse picked up in Italy."_

_Just then, on of the other prisoners spoke to her, causing the girl to turn her head and revealing her face to the Soldier for the first time. She had gorgeous blue eyes. Seeing her face stirred something in him the moment he saw it. A faint but sure yearning. He somehow knew she would be his perfect partner. Yes, his decision was made._

_"That one," he said, holding out the girl's file. "See that they treat her well," he added._

_The man's eyebrows rose. The Soldier was not supposed to make demands, only fulfill them. However, the Soldier had seen the bruises on the girl, and it did not sit right with him somehow. He did want his...asset...to look like that._

_"She'll be easier to train into what I need if she's not half-broken already," was the excuse he gave._

_"I'll see what I can do." The man took the files from him, the girl's on top. The one that said..._

* * *

"Buck? Bucky, you alright?" Steve's voice broke through the pain and haze of the memory.

"Oh gosh," Bucky gasped. "Ohgosh-ohgosh-ohgosh-ohgosh-"

"What is it, Bucky?" Steve asked, putting a hand on each of his friend's shoulders. Grace just watched with wide eyes.

"It was her!" Bucky gasped and collapsed into a kitchen chair. "It's all my fault!"

"What are talking about?" Steve asked.

"This man came to me with the idea of having an assistant. A shadow."

Steve was already dreading what Bucky was going to say but said nothing yet.

"They were even going to let me chose from the recruits they were training. I chose one because she seemed familiar to me," Bucky explained in a choked voice. "It was Grace."

Steve felt a pang in his chest. "Oh, Buck," he murmured as his best friend lowered his head in shame.

"It's my fault. They hurt her because of me."

"You didn't know what they were doing to them."

"Yes, I did!" Bucky retorted. "They were in training. I knew exactly what that meant! I even told them to be careful with her because I knew. Not that they listened." He felt a small hand on his shoulder. He could not bring himself to look up into her beautiful blue eyes. "I'm so sorry, Babydoll. I so sorry," he choked out, trying not to cry.

"Schatten not understand," she answered. "Bucky not do anything to Schatten."

"Yes, I did," he argued. "I'm the reason they did so many things to you." Grace opened her mouth to reply, but Bucky lept to his feet and dashed out of the room. Steve knew he was heading for his room.

"Bucky okay?" Grace asked Steve, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Did Schatten do bad?"

"No, Bucky will be okay," Steve assured her. "For now, he just needs some alone time."

"Oh."

Steve considered her for a moment. "Let's go see what Nat and Clint are up to."

* * *

Bucky could not get away fast enough. He strode into the elevator and slapped the button for Steve's floor where he was staying. He went right into his room when the elevator let him out and locked the door behind him. He immediately went out onto the balcony as the walls seemed to press close.

Grace. He was partly responsible for what had happened to her. The Winter Soldier had picked her specifically to become HYDRA's next-best asset. HYDRA's second most-deadly weapon. The image of her in the holding room came back to the forefront of his mind. She had looked so small, painfully thin and weak, but there was something that had called out to him as the Soldier.

It had been her eyes, Bucky decided. Even when she was weak and sick from abuse and training, a small flame still burned in her eyes. Her fight had not yet been snuffed out.

Suddenly, he heard his own voice echoing in his memory.  _"Grace, guys like me and Steve, we join up to keep girls like you out of harm's way."_  A brief image of Grace, in a navy blue coat, standing in front of an apartment building flashed in his inner eye.

He had failed her. He had not kept her safe. In fact, he had put her in danger in the end, and, for some reason, that thought was killing him. He felt absolutely sick. His heart clenched painfully at the very idea of Grace in HYDRA's hands, knowing what they did to recruits, especially women...

The thought of him potentially hurting her upset him more than remembering what he did to Steve on the helicarrier. That realization scared Bucky.

He began pacing the length of the balcony feverishly. Steve was his best friend. He should be most important to Bucky. So, why did he feel so concerned for Grace? He wanted to find every HYDRA agent who ever laid a hand on her and beat them into a bloody pulp.

But why? Why did she matter so much to him? And why had he always called her "Babydoll"? He remembered that the word was an endearment guys used for their sweethearts. Had he and Grace been sweethearts? Surely he would remember something like that. Besides, Steve said Bucky had  _always_  called her that, implying it had started in their childhood.

Bucky ran his hand through his unruly hair in frustration. He really wished he could just  _remember_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, ideas, and suggestions welcome! Just leave them in that little box down there; you all know which one. ;)


	23. Chapter 23

**_January 1943, Italy._ **

_Bucky grinned as he approached Grace where she was sitting with a brunette and a red head. He was barely limping now._

_"Looks like you are healin' up nicely, Sergeant," the red-head commented with a wink._

_"See, Grace, I'm a good patient," he said._

_Grace rolled her eyes. "Maybe...You'll get to rejoin your men soon," she said softly._

_At those words, Bucky deflated slightly. She was right. He would be heading out as soon as the doctor cleared him. "Walk with me?" he asked, holding out his arm. Warmth blossomed in his chest and flowed all the way to his fingertips and toes when Grace shyly slipped her through his._

_They strolled arm in arm to the edge of the hospital's campsite. A breeze tugged on a stray tendril of hair that had escape Grace's bun and pulled it across her face. Bucky reach over and tucked the strand behind her ear, causing her cheeks to flush a delicate pink._

_Enboldened, Bucky lightly caressed her soft cheek with the back of his fingers. Her eyes met his, and his heart flip-flopped like it had everytime he looked her in the eye since finding her here. What was happening to him? This had never happened to him ever, much less with Grace._

_He gazed down at her beautiful face as she tilted her head ever so slightly into his touch. Her eyes were guarded, like she was unsure of the situation, but he could see beyond that. Behind the wary veil, he could see such warmth, life, so much trust and, dare he believe it could be...love?_

_Suddenly, he was filled with the urge to just lean down and kiss her soft, rosy lips. Swallowing thickly, he lowered his head until his forehead touched hers..._

* * *

Bucky blinked and the scene melted into his darkened room. He had flopped back onto his bed in contemplation fallen asleep at some point. Night had fallen now, and the moon shone in through his window.

Rising, he went out onto the balcony, leaning heavily on the rail, his dream weighing on his mind. It was another memory; he was sure of it. It was too real and vivid to be anything else.

He had nearly kissed her. He had nearly kissed Grace all those years ago in Italy. In spite of what many people believed about him, Bucky had never kissed a girl. Not like that. Not on the lips. Yet he had so wanted to that night. How he had yearned to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked...

* * *

"It's getting late, Grace," Steve said, offering his sister a hand. She took it and let him help her up off the couch where he, Grace, Nat, and Clint were watching Frozen. (The movie was Nat's choice, much to everyone's surprise.) "It's about time for us to go bed, I think. How about you two?"

"I think I'll stay a little while longer," Nat said.

"Same here," Clint said. "Night, Cap. Night, Grace."

"G'night guys," Steve answered. "Come on, Gracie, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

Nodding, Grace followed him back up to his floor. Since he had only one guest room and Bucky occupied it, Steve decided to give Grace his own room, and he would sleep on the sofa in his living room. He opened his bedroom door and showed her in.

"Where will Stevie sleep?" Grace asked. "Is Stevie's room and only one bed. Or...or d-does Stevie...wish Schatten to...to... _share_...his bed?"

Steve immediately flushed as red the stripes on his shield. "No! Good heavens, no!" He took a deep breath as the gravity of what she was implying hit him. "Grace, have men before you met us made you to...'share their bed'...you know... uh,  _intimately_?"

" **Ja**." Her emotionless answer cut through him like a knife. "Schatten is asset; asset for any HYDRA use."

After several attempts to swallow his anger, Steve managed to speak again. "How many?" he asked a low voice as he clenched his fists.

"Many.  **Schatten**  not remember how many."

Steve turned away and began feverishly pacing, his mind whirling and his heart burning with wrath. "I'm so sorry, Grace," was all he could say as he paused his pacing.

"Why?" Grace tilted her head in confusion. The men in her life, which were many, always had their way with her, without qualms. In fact, they often demanded it. Yet, the men here did not. Steve apologized as if they had done something wrong. Maybe if she were a person, but she was a mere tool, an asset.

"Why?" Steve repeated incredulously, gazing at her with something fierce in his eyes that she had never seen before. She took in his tense, angry stance steeled herself. She had made him mad, and now he would hurt her like the HYDRA did.

"Grace, you are a woman-"

" **Nien**. Am an asset."

"No, Grace! You are so much more than that!" Steve said, echoing what Bucky had told her before. "You are a bright, caring, courageous young woman, and it is  _never_  acceptable for a man, any man, to force himself on you. No one here will lay a hand on you, I swear it."

Grace nodded mutely. Looking down she found his hands firmly griping hers. She glanced back up to find his gaze changed into something so soft and gentle, she could not fathom it. He was being so gentle, almost tender, with her. She quickly blinked back the treacherous moisture forming in her eyes.

"Aww, shucks, Gracie. Come here." Steve carefully drew her in to his chest. It was with great hesitation that she reciprocated the hug. Disappointment at her lack of trust in him swept over Steve, he did his best to pretend he did not notice. "There's a nightgown in one of those boxes over there," he said, pointing to the stack in the corner. "Let me grab my things, then I'll be out of your hair." He grabbed his blue and white striped pajamas and his toothbrush from the en suite bathroom and left, closing his door behind him.

Digging through the boxes, Grace found a pale pink nightgown with a matching robe. She donned the gown, hung her blue dress up in the closet, and slipped into the large bed. Part of her was very wary of sleeping in Steve's bed. He could very easily invent and excuse to come back in and force himself on her, but a small part of Grace trusted him, knew that he would never do any such thing to any woman. She felt both insecure and comforted in his bed It was yet another puzzle her life had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ja: Yes  
> Nien: No  
> Schatten: Shadow


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold text = German

_"_ **_So ein hübscher kleiner Schatten..._ ** _" The huge guard's hand trailed down her face then down her side. She subconsciously trembled in fear and disgust at his touch. "_ **_Hydras kleiner Schatten_ ** _**...** " he murmured in her ear, causing her to cringe at his closeness. "_ **_Ich Frage mich, ob es dem Soldaten erlaubt ist, genauso viel Vergnügen mit dir zu haben, wie wir...wir werden unseren kleinen Schatten vermissen..._ ** _"_ _he continued as he began to pull up the hem of her shirt._

_"No! Please, no!" she pleaded, tears running down her face, knowing what was to come..._

* * *

Grace's eyes flew open as innumerable scenes of the same kind flooded her mind in torrents. Suddenly, she felt very small, weak, and dirty.

After her labored breathing returned to normal, she momentarily considered going to Steve and tell him what happened, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He was sleeping and probably would mad if she disturbed him. She had already caused him to sleep in the living room instead of his own bed. Grace laid back down, but could not get the pain-filled memories out of her mind. After tossing and turning for a few hours, she fell into an uneasy sleep. However, her memories continued to haunt her in her dreams.

For the next two nights, the same thing happened. She would have horrific dreams that ended with her waking up coat in a film of sweat and an excruciating headache. Steve and Bucky grew concerned about Grace. The dark circles beneath her eyes only deepened, and she grew quiet. She also became nervous if she was left alone with any man other than Steve or Bucky. Every time she was asked what was wrong, she denied anything was amiss.

She had to be strong. Eventually, she would be punished for showing too much weakness. It always happened. However, on the third night, her nightmares were worse than ever. She woke sobbing and all she could think about was getting somewhere safe.

* * *

_BOOM! Four-year-old Grace threw the cover back on her bed and dashed into her brother's room because Ma was not back from her late shift at the hospital._

_"St-Stevie? You here?"_

_"Yes, Gracie, I'm here."_

_"You awake?"_

_"Yes, silly. I'm talking to ya, aren't I?"_

_BOOM!_

_"I don't like the thunderstorm. Sounds angry."_

_"Come 'ere, Gracie. I won't let the storm hurt you."_

_"I can stay with you?"_

_"Just this once."_

_Grace dashed across the floor, throwing herself up onto her older brother's bed. He pulled back the quilt and let her settle down beside him before tucking it in around her shoulders. "It's a good thing I love you, Gracie."_

* * *

Stevie. Stevie had promised he would never let a man touch her again, just like he had said he would not let the thunderstorm hurt her. Tossing her covers back, she stumbled into the living room, dropping down beside the couch as her sobs threatened to overcome her.

"Grace?" Steve asked blearily. He had woken from a deep sleep to his sister's crumpled form by his side, sobbing. "Grace? Gracie, what's wrong?"

" **So viele**...hurts..." she trailed of into an incoherent jumble of German and English as she cried.

Steve sat up and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Through her tears, she nodded. "Had many..."

Steve could guess what she had dreamed about. "Oh Grace, why didn't you come to me before?" Carefully pulling her up into his lap, he held her close as she cried into his chest.

"'Fraid of making you angry," she managed to answer.

"You never have to worry about making me angry, Grace." He gently tilted her head back so he could see her face. "I will never hurt you. Never."

Slowly, Grace nodded.

"And I don't care what time it is or what it's for; you need me, call me or come and find me," he continued earnestly. "I'm here for you no matter what, okay?"

Grace nodded again and laid her head on his chest, her hand instinctively enclosing a handful of his shirt, just like when she was little. Steve smiled softly at it, and held her tighter, stroking her curly hair, knowing it would help to calm her.

Grace felt, for the first time in since HYDRA had taken her, completely, utterly safe. Eventually, her crying subsided into sniffles, and Steve raised her chin once more to look her in the eye.

"Do you want to go back to bed, or stay out here with me?" he asked, giving her the choice to deal with her nightmares whichever way she needed.

"C-can stay?" she asked hesitantly, thinking back to when he had let her stay with him throughout the thunderstorm when they were little.

"Of course," Steve said. "If that's what you need."

"Want to stay," she answered softly.

"Okay." Grabbing the blanket he had been asleep under, Steve scooped Grace up and moved to the roomy recliner Bucky usually sat in. He pulled the lever to make the footrest pop out and leaned back a little bit. Grace settled down at his side, her legs draped across his lap, and laid her head on his shoulder as he spread the blanket out over them. A blurry but recognizable parade of memories little things Steve did that made Grace feel safe and cared for streamed through her tired mind.

"Thank you, Stevie," she whispered.

"What for?"

"Keeping safe."

"Grace, I will always do my best to keep you safe." Steve pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Always." In response, Grace snuggled closer, wrapping an arm across his torso. In minutes, her breathing evened out in slumber as Steve continued running his fingers comfortingly through her hair. Soon, even he grew sleepy, whispering into his sister's soft curls as he drifted off. "I love you, Gracie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German translation courtesy of my new friend, Australielover, on Fanfiction.net, who actually is German.
> 
> So ein hübscher kleiner Schatten... = Such a pretty little shadow...
> 
> Hydras kleiner Schatten... = HYDRA's little shadow...
> 
> Ich Frage mich, ob es dem Soldaten erlaubt ist, genauso viel Vergnügen mit dir zu haben, wie wir... wir werden unseren kleinen Schatten vermissen... = I wonder if the Soldier will be allowed to take as much pleasure from you as we are...We will miss our little Shadow...
> 
> So viele... = So many...


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning, Bucky found Steve and Grace just as they were when they fell asleep in the recliner. Early morning sunlight beamed in through the windows, softly illuminating the sleeping figures. Bucky felt a small smile spread across his face at the scene. He carefully eased over and gently shook Steve's shoulder to wake him.

"You coming on our run this morning?" he whispered.

"Yeah, give me a minute." Steve hated to disturb Grace since she was sleeping so peacefully, but he knew there was no way he could get up without waking her. "Grace...Grace," he said softly, stroking her sleep-mussed curls back from her face. She stirred with a little groan, which Bucky found oddly adorable, before tugging the blanket more firmly around her shoulders and tightening her hold on Steve. Steve chuckled as he gently loosened her grip on his shirt.

" **Nein**..." she mumbled, hiding her face in her brother's chest.

"Gracie, I'm just going for a run; Bucky and I will be back soon, okay?" Steve said, slipping away and standing. "Let me change, and I'll be ready." He quickly went into his room to change into running clothes.

Bucky knelt by the chair, tucking the blanket back round Grace. "Go back to sleep, Babydoll," he murmured.

Just then, the elevator dinged open, and Sam Wilson stepped off.

"You boys ready ta go?" Sam asked.

"Pipe down, Wilson!" Bucky answered in hushed tones, motioning to the dozing Grace. "Steve'll be ready in a minute."

"Seriously, Barnes? You guys have her sleeping in the living room? And I thought you two were gentlemen."

"She had a nightmare," Steve whispered, joining them. "She came out here and stayed with me." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "We'll back in a little while, Grace," he told her softly. She grabbed his hand and pulled it close.

"Stevie..." she mumbled quietly.

Steve extricated his hand and shot Sam a stern look when the ex-soldier started chuckling. They headed for the elevator, Sam still grinning.

"Ya sure I don't have a shot with her?" he asked as they boarded the elevator.

The door slid closed, and Steve hit the button for the training floor. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Come on, Cap! You know I'm a gentleman."

"So?"

"So, she's clearly a snugglebunny, something, I totally go for, and that was seriously the most freakin' adorable case of bed-head I've- _Ouch!_  What was that for, Barnes?"

"For talking about Grace like that."

"Like what? You seriously gonna tell me you don't find that little doll of 1940's adorableness attractive?"

"She's a person, not a toy." Bucky huffed.

"Says the guys that calls her "Babydoll" on a regular basis." Sam cocked an eyebrow at him.

"It's a nickname; there's a difference."

"Right..."

Steve shook his head at their arguing. The elevator dinged opened and the three soldiers began stretching and warming up.

"Ya know, ya still haven't answered by question, Barnes," Sam commented fifteen minutes later.

"What question is that, Wilson?"

"Do you find Grace attractive?"

Bucky paused only for a split second. Of course he found her attractive; she was probably one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever met, and the little bits and pieces he could remember about her said that she was a very loving, caring person. But, for some reason, he felt shy about admitting it to Sam, especially with Steve standing right beside him. "She's pretty."

"That's it? Just pretty?" Same scoffed.

"Fine," Bucky rolled his eyes. "She's very pretty."  _Not that it matters,_ he thought.  _She probably doesn't want to have anything to do with me now that she know what I did to her._

"Seriously, dude? You need to get your eyes checked," Sam slapped Bucky on the back.

"Alright, Sam, knock it off," Steve said good-naturedly, sensing Bucky's discomfort.

"Come on, Rogers, I know she's malnourished and skinny and all right now, but I can already tell she's a beauty," Sam crossed his arms. "I know you're her brother and all that, but don't tell me you're blind too."

"No, you're right," Steve answered honestly. "I've only met one lady prettier than Grace and Ma."

"Agent Carter?" Bucky grinned.

"So you remember Peggy, but I had to tell you about Grace? Seriously, Buck?"

Bucky just shrugged with an innocent grin.

"Okay, okay, let's get this race started," Sam interjected. "You boys are going down."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at the man. "Ya think so, Tweety Bird?" he asked, borrowing one of Tony's annoying nicknames for Sam. "What d'ya think, Punk? How much of a head start would we need to give him?"

"Is that how it gonna be, Jack Frost?"

"You bet, Buzz Lightyear." Borrowing Tony's nicknames was so much fun.

"Oh, I see how it's gonna be!"

"Come on, fellas, let's line up," Steve nudged Sam and Bucky toward the running track. They got into their positions, each in their own lane of the track. Steve began the countdown. "One..."

"You'd better hope the Star-Spangled Man has a plan, Barnes..."

"Two..."

"...cuz you two are gonna be eating my dust!"

"Three!"

The three men took off, and, dispite his smack-talking, Sam was overtaken by Steve and Bucky. They circled the track, and the WWII vets overtook Sam again.

"On your right!"

"Very funny, Barnes."

"On your left."

"Come on! Seriously, man!?"

* * *

When the trio finished their and were cooling down, they received a call from JARVIS.

_"Captain Rogers?"_

"Yes, JARVIS?"

_"Miss Rogers would like a word."_

"Grace?"

_"S-Steve?"_

"What's wrong?"

_"Nothing. Can you hear me? Mr. JARVIS said it was like a telephone call."_

"We hear you loud and clear, Babydoll," Bucky answered.

 _"I'm making breakfast and I was wondering if you fellas would be back soon."_  Her English always seemed to clear when she was doing something familiar.

"Yeah, we'll be up in a few minutes, Sis." Steve replied.

_"Okay. Oh, is your friend staying for breakfast?"_

"Friend?"

_"The fella you and Bucky went running with."_

Bucky and Sam sent Steve a surprised look. Neither had realized that she had been awake enough to register Sam's presence. Steve gave Sam the "Well, are you?" look.

"May I be so bold as to ask what Miss Rogers is cooking?" Sam asked in a slightly flirty tone.

Grace, in her naivety, did not seem to notice it.  _"Eggs, bacon, biscuts and jam, and coffee."_

"Mmm! I wouldn't dare insult lady who cooks that kind of breakfast by skippin' out," Sam answered with a cheeky grin.

_"Is...is that a yes?"_

"You bet your pretty head of curls it is."

Steve shook his head wearily. "Yes, Grace, that's a yes."

_"Oh. Okay. It should ready when you fellas get up here."_

"We'll be there soon."

_"Okay...um...bye, I guess?"_

The men chuckled at her ending the "call" like a phone conversation. Ten minutes later, they entered Steve's floor, the scent of frying bacon, baking biscuts, and brewing coffee pervading the space.

Sam took whiff and grinned. "Man, that girl knows how ta feed a man right!"

Bucky sent him a Winter Soldier Death Glare. (Tony kept threatening to patent it as a weapon of mass destruction.)

Steve quickly intervined. "Knock it off, guys. I don't want any fighting at the breakfast table."

They entered the kitchen to find the table neatly set and platters of food waiting.

"Have a seat, fellas," Grace said, as she went over to table, coffee pot in hand. Bucky quickly grabbed the seat across from Steve to ensure Sam had to sit across from Grace. Once everyone was seated, Steve said the blessing. As the men helped themselves to the food, Grace went around the table pouring coffee for everyone.

"How was the run?" Grace asked. "I hope these two didn't show off too much, Mister..." She paused, waiting for their guest's name.

"Sam, Sam Wilson, ma'am," Sam answered, taking the cup of coffee she offered him. "As for these two, they whooped my-"

Steve quickly gave a little cough to stop Sam. " _Ahem_ , we beat him quite soundly."

Sam rolled his eyes but went along with it. "Yeah, they did."

"Now, you fellas shouldn't gang up on Mr. Wilson. We all can't be as fast as you two," she commented as she sat down.

"He started it," Bucky defended.

"You took the challenge of your own free will, with quite of bit of attitude, I might add," Sam replied.

"Hey, you started the smack talking, too, Tweety Bird!"

"Which you also reciprocated in like kind, Frosty."

"Guys, what did I say about the breakfast table?" Steve interjected.

"Carrier pigeon..." Bucky grumbled.

"Whatcha say, Mr. Freeze?"

"Boys!" Grace's reprimanding tone made both men stop in their tracks.

"Yes, ma'am," both Sam and Bucky mumbled and ducked their heads before they realized what they were doing.

Steve laughed at his friends. One word from his tiny sister had two grown soldiers looking like boys who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Yeah, laugh it up, Cap," Sam grumbled.

"And here I thought we were best friends," Bucky muttered. "Punk."

"Jerk," he answered.

"Steve..."

"Yes, ma'am."


	26. Chapter XXVI

_A week later..._

Steve went away on a mission that morning with Sam and Nat. Steve did not want to leave Grace so soon, but Fury was adamant that the Captain was needed on this mission.

When Steve went into the his living room, wearing his full suit with his shield on his back and helmet in hand, where Grace sat on the sofa folding laundry (Nat and Pepper had showed her how to run the washer and dryer), his sister dropped the shirt she was holding, her eyes wide.

"You're going on a mission," she breathed. (Her English had greatly improved over the last few days.)

Steve nodded solemnly.

She immediately jumped up from where she sat on the sofa. "Where's my gear?" she asked.

"What?" Steve asked, startled.

"My gear," Grace repeated. "Bucky goes everywhere you go, and I'm his  **Schatten**. So, I'll need more appropriate clothing to wear if I'm going on a mission."

Steve winced at Grace still referring to herself as " **Schatten** ". "Actually, you and Bucky are staying here. It's just Sam, Nat, and me on this one."

"We're...we're not going with you?" She did not seem to comprehend the idea. Steve crossed the room to her, and sat down on the sofa, pulling her down next him.

"Bucky hasn't actually been on very many missions with me, Grace," he explained. "He usually only goes if all of us are called up and even then, not every time. He...he's been through alot..."

"In the war?"

"Yes," Steve nodded. "He's not ready to go on missions all the time." An idea suddenly came to him. "Grace, I need you to look after him while I'm gone. Do you think you could do that?" She nodded. Steve sent her a grin. "Thanks, Sis. I know he's in good hands." He gave her a quick hug.

Just then, Bucky came in from the elevator. "You heading out soon?" he asked, seeing Steve in his uniform.

"Yeah, in a minute," Steve answered, standing. Bucky crossed the room, and gave Steve a brief hug.

"Don't do anything stupid while you're out there, 'kay?" Bucky teased. "I do  _not_  want to get call saying I gotta go save your tail yet again."

Steve grinned. "Well, all the stupid is staying here with you, so..."

"Oh, get outta here, Punk." Bucky tussled Steve's neatly combed hair, and dodged the half-hearted swing Steve took at him.

"You'll be careful, won't you, Stevie?" The men heard a small voice ask. They turned to see Grace standing, biting her lip and twisting her fingers together nervously.

Warmth welled up in Steve's heart at her concern. She may not fully remember him, but even after she endured from HYDRA, she was still the same caring young woman she had always been.

"Of course, Gracie," he finally answered. "I'll be back before you know it." She nodded slowly, then rushed into his arms. He had to take a step back to keep his balance from the force of her running into him, and he send Bucky a look over the top of her head. Bucky nodded, immediately getting the message:  _Look after her for me._

Suddenly, JARVIS's voice rang out of the speakers hidden around the room _. "Captain Rogers: Mr. Wilson and Agent Romanoff await you on the roof. Your quinjet is prepared for take off."_

"I gotta go, Gracie," Steve said quietly, reluctantly pulling away from her. She nodded once more, wiping at her wet eyes with back of her hand. "JARVIS will give you a heads up when we're on our way home." Steve quickly got into the elevator and punched the button for the roof. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was Bucky holding Grace's hand.

* * *

When the elevator door closed with a quiet yet somehow ominous thud, Grace instantly sank onto the sofa. Bucky sat down beside her and, before he could think about what he was doing, slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling to him. To his surprise, she did not fight him, but rather seemed to tuck herself against his side, her head on his shoulder.

"Steve's going to be alright, isn't he?" she asked in the same small voice as before.

"Of course, Babydoll," Bucky answered firmly. "Steve doesn't how to lose a fight; he never gives up."

Grace nodded. Slowly, she sat up, wiping the last of her tears away, and returned to folding laundry. Still sniffling, she picked up the pile of jeans and tee shirts that belonged to Steve and took them to his room. Bucky watched from the doorway as she carefully placed her brother's clothes in the appropriate drawers of the dresser. Before she left, she saw Steve's favorite brown leather jacket hanging on a hook by door. She reached out and her fingers brushed the leather before she quickly left the room, slipping past Bucky.

Bucky watched her out of the corner of his eye as she spent the rest of the day quietly ironing his and Steve's button-down shirts, scrubbing the kitchen's tile floor, beat the living room rug (He had to help her lug it the dining room balcony because of how big it was.), and cleaning the bathroom from bow to stern. None of it was really dirty, but Bucky sensed she was keeping herself busy so she would not worry about Steve, so he let her do it all.

That evening, she cooked salisbury steaks for dinner. She was quiet throughout the meal and when she joined Bucky, after taking a shower, in watching the news.

At ten o'clock, they went their separate ways to bed. However, when Bucky got to go to the bathroom around midnight, he found Grace curled up on her side on the living couch, clutching the pillow Steve had been sleeping on to her chest, her face half buried in it. She looked like she had been crying. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed the blanket Steve had been sleeping under and draped it over her. When he tried to carefully tuck it in around her shoulders, she slowly stirred and sleepily opened her eyes.

"Bucky?"

He knelt down in front of her. "Yeah, Babydoll, it's me." He hesitantly brushed her hair out of her face with his flesh hand, unsure if she would welcome the contact. "What are you doing out here?"

"Bad dreams," she whispered, sounding small and child-like in her half-awake state.

"You wanna tell me about it?" he asked very gently.

"You and I were on a mission, and we were wearing all black," she murmured. "Someone was talking to us on a radio, telling you where to find our objective. We...w-we.. _.k-killed_  people, Bucky," she whispered in a shaky little voice. " _I_ killed p-people..."

Bucky swallowed thickly, thinking of this own nightmares. "It's okay, Babydoll," he answered. "It was just a dream."

"But I knew them," she argued. "I...I remember their faces...I-I think they were people who trained with me..." Tears shone in her wide blue eyes, threatening to fall. "P-People the trainers made us kill because they failed..." she squeezed her eyes closed and a tear escaped from both of them.

"Oh, Babydoll..." He gently stroked her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"We finally found our objective," she choked out. "It was Stevie," she sobbed. "They made us shoot him..."

Bucky's heart shattered as she shook with her sobs, crushing her brother's pillow to her chest. Without even thinking, he pressed a tender kiss to her temple as he tried to blink back his own tears. "I'm so sorry, Grace, I'm so sorry..." He lowered his head till his forehead rested against her temple, the two of them grieving for everything HYDRA had taken from them.


	27. Chapter XXVII

The next morning, she had breakfast waiting for Bucky when he came back from his morning run. When he sat down at the table, he could not help but grin at the fact that she had set the table so they were sitting beside each other. He did not know why, but that made him very happy. Grace poured him a cup of black coffee as usual, and he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

"You sleep at all last night, Babydoll?" he asked. Both of them had returned to their rooms around two-thirty that morning.

Sitting down, she shook her head.

"Babydoll," he sighed. "What are you doing up at this hour? You need to go back to bed. I know you haven't been sleeping for a while now."

Grace shook her head. "Can't sleep." She ate quietly, then washed the dishes while Bucky dryed them. As she handed him the last plate, he set it aside and grabbed her hand.

"He's going to be okay, Grace," he said firmly. "You hear me? Steve is going to be walking in that door, all fine and dandy, by sometime tomorrow." She looked up at him. "And I'm going to be right here till he does, okay?" She bit her lip, then nodded once more.

Once they finished putting the dishes away, Bucky went to take a shower. Once he was done, he could not find Grace anywhere on the floor.

"JARVIS, where's Grace?" he asked.

"Miss Rogers is in the common floor kitchen, Sergeant Barnes."

"Thanks, pal." Bucky went up to the common floor. "Babydoll, you up here?" He found Grace in the kitchen on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. "Why are you cleaning in here?" He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Never seen anyone clean up here," she shrugged.

"You do realize Stark has someone who comes up here after hours, right?"

She just shrugged again and renewed her effort to clean the already clean floor. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a few minutes. She had changed into a pair of denim overalls that Nat had given her a few days ago, (The assassin said she had them from an assignment, but had never worn them again), and had covered her hair with a red bandana for a kerchief. The overall legs were rolled up just below her knees, revealing her bare feet. Bucky could not help but think how adorable she looked as she huffed a loose curl away from her face.

Then, Tony and Clint came in. "Woah, what is all this?" Tony demanded. "Why is Alice re-enacting Cinderella in my kitchen?" he asked, pointing at her.

"First of all, Stark, her name is Grace," Bucky answered. "Second, this is the team kitchen. Yours is on your floor. Third, she cleaned Steve's floor yesterday, so she found something else to occupy her time with."

Tony looked down at her incredulously. "You're on your hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor,  _for fun_?"

Grace shrugged again. "Keeps my mind off things," she added so quietly Tony and Clint barely caught it.

 _Steve left yesterday_ , Bucky mouthed.

"Oh. I see," Tony said. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it...have fun, Cinders." He awkwardly waved and left. Clint, however, had a thoughtful look on his face.

"You want some help with this, Grace?" he asked. "It's a pretty big floor."

Grace raised her and surveyed the room. It was more than twice as big as Steve's. It was probably bigger than their old apartment in Brooklyn. "You...you want to help me?" she asked. "Don't you have training...or something more important to do?"

"Well, you're Cap's sister, so, in my way of thinking, you're kind of part of the team," Clint smiled. "I think helping a teammate is pretty important. Besides, my momma would tan my hide if she knew I let a lady do such hard work by herself."

Grace smiled back shyly. "There's more buckets and brushes under the sink, I believe."

"Come on, Barnes," Clint lightly elbowed the super soldier. "Many hands make light work." For the few hours the three some scrubbed the kitchen floor, then moved onto vacuuming all the carpeting and washing all the windows, which was was quite the chore considering how much glass Tony had everywhere. By the time they were finished the men where as tired as if they had spent the whole day training.

"Man, how did girls way 'back in the day' do this all the time?" Clint groaned as he sank onto one of the common room sofas. "Miss Grace, I have a new-found respect for the work ethic and energy of your generation of women."

"Thank you, Clint." Over the course of the afternoon, she had dropped the "Mister" off his name, much to the archer's delight.

"You know what we deserve?" Clint asked.

"No, what do we deserve, Barton?" Bucky answered, from his place at the other end of the couch.

"To order in dinner and have a movie night. Just the three of us." Just then, the scent of something warm and savory wafted into the room. "Do you smell something, guys?" Clint asked.

"That would be dinner," Grace replied with a small smile as she headed back to the kitchen.

"Dinner? I didn't think you knew how to order dinner."

"I don't," she called over her shoulder.

Bucky took a deep sniff. "Nope, that's definitely not ordered out." Clint sent him a questioning look. "That's shepherd's pie." The two men quickly followed her path into the kitchen. They walked into see Grace pulling a large shepherd's pie out of the oven.

"When did you have time to make this?" Clint asked, amazed.

"While you boys were taking care of the upper windows," she answered. "Mr. JARVIS?"

_"Yes, Miss Rogers?"_

"May I please call Mr. Stark, then Miss Pepper."

_"I will open a line to both Mr. Stark's lab and Miss Potts' phone simultaneously."_

"You...you can do that?"

_"Yes, ma'am. Connecting..."_

_"What's up, Miss Wonderland?"_  Tony's voice came through the speakers.

 _"Hello, Grace? Is that you?"_  Pepper said.

"Hello. Um, the ceiling's up," she answered uncertaintly. "Um...I guess the sky is up...

_"Ha, ha very funny, Alice. Who told you to say that? Did Barnes tell you to say that? Or was it Barton?"_

"Nobody told me to say that," Grace said. "The ceiling really is up."

There was a moment of silence. _"You're as bad as Grandpa Capsicle, you know that?"_

 _"Tony!"_  Both Pepper's and another male voice scolded.

_"What? Ouch! Attack! Bruce is attacking me!"_

"Hi, Bruce. When did you  _get_  here?" Clint asked.

_"About two-fifteen this afternoon. Tony wanted me to look at something."_

_"Seriously, Brucie, what was that for?"_  Tony whined.  _"I did not deserve a smack on the back of my head. My poor little brain..."_

Pepper ignored her boyfriend's dramatics. _"Is something wrong, Grace?"_

"Nothing," Grace answered. "I, uh, made dinner and wondered you two wanted to join Clint, Bucky, and me."

"She made shepherd's pie," Bucky piped up.

 _"Of course, we'd love to!"_  Pepper answered.  _"I'll be up in five minutes. So will you, Tony,"_  she added firmly for the billionaire's benefit.

_"But-"_

_"No buts. Grace to the time and effort to cook; you can take the time and effort to be there on time."_

_"Don't worry, I'll make sure he's there,"_  the voice Grace assumed to be "Bruce" said.

 _"What about Brucie?"_  Tony asked. _"I can't leave my science bro to go hungry."_

"He'll eat with the rest of us, Mr. Stark," Grace replied.

 _"See? Problem solved. Now get yourself up there. See everyone in a bit,"_  Pepper said and ended her side of the call.

 _"Okay, okay, I'll be up in few,"_  Tony griped.  _"Sheesh, pushy girls around here..."_  The line went dead.

Grace stood there for a moment. "I don't remember being pushy."

"You weren't. Stark likes find inventing things to complain about," Bucky assured her.

"What happened to dinner and a movie for just the three of us?" Clint asked, slightly pouting.

"Don't worry, we'll get our reward later," Grace grinned.

"Oh?" Clint perked up.

"Don't tell the others because there might not be enough for them too, but there's a pie in the refrigerator waiting to be baked." The archer turned and peeked in the fridge as Grace handed Bucky glasses and carried plates and silverware into the dining area.

As they began to set the table, they heard Clint call out, "Holy cow, Barnes! She wasn't kidding! Blueberry pie with a lattice crust and all!"

"Well, yeah," Bucky answered, turning to face the kitchen. "What were you expecting?"

"Not something off of the Food Network!" The archer replied.

A few minutes later, Bruce, Tony, and Pepper came in, Pepper taking off her high heels as she left the elevator.

"Okay, intros," Tony said, clapping his hands together. "Miss Capsicle, meet Brucie. Brucie, meet Spangles' little sister."

Bruce offer her his hand with a wry smile. "Dr. Bruce Banner, Miss Rogers."

"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor. I'm Grace," she shyly replied shaking his hand.

The dinner was spent in amicable conversation, Tony talking a lot about the suit upgrade he was working on, and Grace politely asking Bruce about what kind of doctor he was and what did he study. Finally, Tony looked over at Clint and Bucky.

"So, what did you two do today? Beat the stuffing out of the training dummies? Shoot up the firing range?"

"Nope. We helped Grace clean up here," Clint answered.

"Hold it, hold it," Tony sputtered. "You two, a trained spy and a assassin, let yourselves get pulled into playing Cinderella and bossed around little Miss Wonderland?"

"Actually, I volunteered," Clint answered.

"I was drafted," Bucky said. " _Again_ ," he added under his breath.

"You, Legolas, feared master of the bow, voluntarily got down on your hands and knees,and scrubbed the kitchen floor?"

Clint nodded. "And we vacuumed the carpet and did all the windows."

"You have way too much glass, by the way, Stark," Bucky grumbled.

"That was very nice of you guys," Bruce commented.

"Do know how much work it was?" Clint asked. "And we have modern conveniences to help us these days! No wonder all the house were so small; the wives would have killed themselves trying to keep it all clean. I don't know how they did it."

"Is this admiration, I hear?" Pepper smiled.

"Heck, yeah! And somehow, while doing all that, Grace managed to make dinner."

"So boring," Tong broke in. "You know all work and no play made Jack a dull boy."

"Oh, we had fun, didn't we, Barton?" Bucky said, a smirk playing about his lips.

"Oh yeah, having you wring out your cold rag down the back of my neck was so much fun," Clint deadpanned.

"They started a wet rag war," Grace explained at everyone's curious looks. "and they both have very good aim."

"So do you, Missy," Clint shot back.

"You threw a cold, damp, dirty rag in my face. You deserved a wet sponge in the back," she calmly replied.

"Wait, you guys had a water fight with rags and sponges, and you didn't invite me?" Tony gasped, amid Pepper's and Bruce's chuckles at the mental picture of little Grace sneaking up and get Clint in the back.

"You didn't offer to help," Grace shrugged as she rose and began to gather up the empty dishes. "Besides, it sounds like you were quite occupied by all your...uh,electric...suit...thing."

"It's not just an 'electric suit thing'!"

"Well, that's all we got out of your long-winded speech," Bucky answered snarkily.

"Not my problem," Tony shrugged as he rose from the table. "I can't help it you guys aren't geniuses like me." He turned toward the kitchen where Grace had disappeared into. "Great dinner, by the way. You should cook more often."

"She cooks for Steve and I everyday," Bucky said.

"And I wasn't invited?"

"Tony, you don't need to be at every thing everyone does," Pepper admonished.

"If he wants to get up at five-thirty to join us, he's welcome," Grace said lightly, having heard enough from Steve and Bucky about Tony to know the engineer would never get up that early.

"Five-thirty!" Tony screeched. "Why in heaven's name is breakfast in the Rogers' household at five-freaking-thirty?"

"We're in the Army, Stark. That's when the Army gets up," Bucky explained.

"Used to be," Tony argued.

"Your war did end seventy years ago," Bruce added gently.

"I don't remember resigning or being discharged," Bucky shrugged. "What about you, Babydoll?"

Grace, who was re-entering the room, stilled. "I...I was in the Army?"

"Well, yeah," Bucky answered. "You don't remember?"

Grace shook her head and sank into her chair by Bucky.

"You were a Second Lieutentent, I think," he said. "Got sent over quite a bit before I did."

"We were in the same war?"

Bucky nodded.

"D-Did I...fight?"

"No, honey," Pepper replied. "You were a nurse."

"Nurse?"

"Yeah, you, uh, made the injured soldiers feel better or something like that," Tony said.

"I didn't... _kill_...anyone?"

Bucky slipped his arm around her "No, Babydoll. You helped people who were hurt."

"Was I good at it?"

For some reason, her question triggered something in the back of Bucky's mind. It was like an itch he could not reach. It was right there; so close, yet too far. So, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm sure you were the best in the Army, Grace."


	28. Chapter XXVIII

After the dinner dishes were done and the others had left, Clint and Bucky went into the home theater to pick out a movie while Grace put their pie in the oven to bake.

"So, what film are we seeing?" she asked as she came in.

"Well, I suggested Cinderella, but Barnes here thinks it's silly."

"May I see the poster for it?" Grace asked, not realizing movies had case covers now. The TV screen lit up to show several different poster and movie covers for the film.

 _"Perhaps these will help Miss Rogers,"_  JARVIS said.

Grace gazed at the images in fascination. "These look a lot like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs!"

_"This particular version is indeed made by the same company as the Snow White film released in 1937 by Walt Disney."_

"Wait, you remember Snow White?" Clint asked.

"Yes!" Grace nodded eagerly. "Steve and I saved up until the last week they were showing to buy tickets for it."

"You saw Snow White when it was literally  _first_  released?!"

"Yes, we waited in line for over an hour with all these little kids who had roped their parents into seeing it a second time," Bucky moaned. "Grace sang those songs for weeks! 'Bout drove the rest of us crazy!"

"I liked them! At least...I think I did," Grace said. "I can't remember them now."

"Some things really don't change," Clint chuckled with a shake of his head. "Girls still go nuts over Disney songs."

"What's wrong with Mr. Disney's films and songs?" Grace asked.

"Nothing at all," Clint shrugged. "I still watch them."

"They're for kids, Grace," Bucky said. "Like the Mickey Mouse cartoons in the newsreels."

"I don't remember you thinking Snow White was so childish after we saw it," Grace replied, crossing her arms. "but I do remember you saying you liked Mickey Mouse. You thought he was funny."

"Oh, come on, Babydoll, it was made for kids."

"So?"

Bucky sighed, sensing he was losing ground in this debate. "Grace-"

"Please, Bucky?"

Bucky looked down to find a pair of blue eyes gazing up at him pleadingly. _Shoot, she just had to go there._  He honestly could not remember a single bit of Snow White, but he did remember that the cartoon films were supposed to be for kids, and he was a soldier, for pete's sake. However, meeting Grace's pleading eyes once more, he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fine," he huffed. "You owe me, Babydoll."

With a giggle, Grace bounced onto the tips of her toes and flung her arms around his neck. However, before Bucky's startled mind could react, she quickly let go with a mumbled apology.

"So are we a go on Cinderella?" Clint asked to break the awkward moment.

"Yeah, sure," Bucky answered, shyly rubbing the back of his neck as he plopped down on the end of the couch. Grace sat down, keeping what would have considered back in their day as a respectable distance between herself and Bucky. Clint asked JARVIS to play the movie and settled down on Grace's other side. Twenty minutes later, JARVIS paused the movie to inform Grace the pie was done. She dashed to kitchen and came back a few minutes later with two plates of pie. If Clint noticed that Bucky's piece was a little bigger than his, the archer did not say anything. Bucky waited until Grace returned with her piece before eating, but Clint dug right in.

" _Ohmigosh!_  This is to die for, Grace! Where did learn to bake like this?"

"Um...Ma, maybe?" Grace answered uncertainly. "I don't really remember..." She bowed her head for a moment.

"I think it was your ma," Bucky said. He took a bite and his closed in appreciation. "Hmmm...you always were good with baking...I think."

"I don't care where you learned to bake as long as you don't stop baking stuff," Clint piped. "I'm not eating store-bought cakes and cookies anymore. They won't be any good after this."

"I'll take it into consideration," Grace said, with a shy smile for his gushing praise. "If you like this, wait till you try my oatmeal raisin cookies."

"Oatmeal raisin?" Clint perked up.

"Yeah...someone I knew really liked them..."

"I did," Bucky quietly answered. He had finished his pie and set his plate on the coffee table. He was leaning forward with his elbows brace on his knees, gazing off into space, caught up in a memory. "You sent them to me at bootcamp. I had to hide them from the guys after I let my bunk mate have one. He wouldn't shut up about how good they were, so everyone wanted one."

"Can those be next on the list of baking?" Clint asked hopefully.

"Okay," Grace agreed abscently. Bucky was still looking off into the distance. She scooted closer and gingerly laid a hand on his shoulder. "You alright, Buck?" Her voice seemed to snap him out of his trance.

He blinked and lowered his head, covering her hand with his own. "Yeah, Babydoll, I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "JARVIS, please play the movie."

Grace removed her hand as he settled back in the couch, but she did not move away, something Bucky found he secretly liked.

They finished the movie and moved onto the new live-action version, at JARVIS's suggestion.

When the credits began to roll, Clint looked over at pair on the other end of the couch. "See, Barnes? That wasn't-" His sentence died on his lips.

Slouched down in his seat, Bucky had his feet propped up on the the coffee table and his arms crossed over his chest. Grace had tucked her feet under her at some point and rested her head on Bucky's shoulder. His head rested against hers. Both were sound asleep.

Quietly snapping a picture for Steve, he grabbed two nearby afghans and managed to cover the sleeping figures without waking either one. "Night, Barnes. Night, Grace," he whispered with a wry grin. He silently made his way to the elevator and got in. Pressing the button for his floor, he took his phone back out and sent the picture he just took to Steve's phone with a caption.

_Be glad Stark didn't see this. None of us would ever hear the end of it. And it would crush poor Wilson's heart. ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> Δόξα στο Θεό - Soli Deo Gloria


End file.
